


baby I'd carry you (all the way home)

by WinterRose527



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Accidental Pregnancy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, canon ain't welcome 'round here, does that mean pregnancy?, how is that a more common tag?, obviously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 13:16:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19274083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterRose527/pseuds/WinterRose527
Summary: It was supposed to be a one night stand, or was it?title is from "Down by the Water" by The Drumsthis is for runningwwolves701 who requested an accidental pregnancy modern au -  hope you like it





	1. A martini and a smile

_THREE MONTHS EARLIER_

 

_“You know this,” he said as they stumbled into her bedroom, kissing all the while. “Is usually,” he went on, kissing down her neck, his hands everywhere holding her to him, “The part of the night when you’d tell me you don’t normally do this…”_

 

_“Okay,” she said, pulling his face back to hers so she could kiss him again._

 

_“So… are you?,” he asked, pulling off her sweater, his eyes trailing down her gorgeous body, “Going to say that I mean?”_

 

_“Why would I do that?,” she asked, unbuttoning his shirt._

 

_“Because girls always do. It’s never true, but, you know…,” he said with a lopsided grin, reaching for her yet again._

 

 _She stepped out of his grasp and said, “Well we’ve established that you wouldn’t believe me even if I did say it, and that_ you _certainly do this a lot, so why, exactly, would I waste my breath?”_

 

_“Are you a lawyer?,” he asked, stalking towards her._

 

_“No, I’m just smarter than you,” she smiled and he chuckled, “Now take off your pants.”_

 

***

 

PRESENT DAY

 

“Oookay,” he said.

 

Not exactly the greatest response to _I’m pregnant_.

 

Usually he was a bit smoother, but he had been taken by surprise. This wasn’t exactly where he’d thought this night was going to go. She’d texted him earlier that day asking if he was free, and when he’d suggested drinks at a new cocktail bar she’d replied with _Can I just come to your apartment_?

 

He had cleaned, stocked up on condoms, picked up a bottle of wine and stroked one out to ensure he wouldn’t come immediately upon seeing her naked body. He should have known that she wasn’t texting for that. After all, he hadn’t heard from her in three months, not since he’d woken up to find her dressing for work. He’d asked for her number and she’d responded by asking for his. He’d given it eagerly, she was cool, if not a little mean, and the sex was fantastic.

 

He wasn’t used to girls not texting or calling, so he hadn’t realised until he’d told his buddies about her that it had been a blow-off.

 

So when she’d texted earlier it should have been set of alarm bells in his head that something was up, but it hadn’t. She made him a little stupid. Which was a cause for concern.

 

But certainly not the most pressing one.

 

“Right,” Myrcella said, when it became clear he was incapable of saying anything else, “So I’m going to keep it, the baby I mean, and um, I’m not… you don’t have to do anything, I just wanted you to know so that you’d… know.”

 

“Are you sure?,” he asked.

 

She nodded, brushing her fingers through her hair as though this was a perfectly normal conversation, “Definitely. I am… very financially secure so I’m not concerned about that and I’ll want to keep working so I’ll need a nanny or two anyway so, yeah I mean if you want to just…pretend like we didn’t have this conversation then that’s fine.”

 

“No,” he shook his head, “I mean, are you sure you’re pregnant and that…I’m the father?”

 

Her cheeks went red, “Yes, trust me I would not have put either of us through this conversation if I hadn’t already had a doctor confirm it. And as for you being the father… fuck you a little.”

 

He groaned, “I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to imply that… I just… you know you um…”

 

“I um…,” she goaded.

 

He sighed, “That night, you know, when I asked about if you did it a lot you -“

 

“That’s not what you asked,” she interrupted. He stared at her blankly. “You asked me whether I was going to _tell_ you that I didn’t do it a lot. And then you implied that you wouldn’t believe me if I said so. So… no I did not feel like saying it to make you feel better about yourself. But I broke up with my ex six months ago and I haven’t been with anyone else since. So yes, I’m sure that you’re the father.”

 

“I’m really acing this conversation, huh?,” he asked.

 

To his surprise she smiled, it made her look younger. Not that she was old, only twenty-four, the same age as Sansa, but when she smiled she looked like a kid herself, all dimples and crinkled eyes.

 

It was the first thing he’d noticed about her.

 

***

 

_THREE MONTHS EARLIER_

 

_“Are you seriously ditching me for my sister?,” he grumbled._

 

_“Yes,” Theon scoffed, “A thousand times yes. Are you aware of what she -“_

 

_“DON’T finish that sentence,” Robb pleaded._

 

_Theon chuckled and patted him on the back before heading out. Without paying his bill. Typical._

 

_Robb looked across the bar for the bartender, looking to close out. His eyes fell to a girl instead, her smile in particular. It was the kind that changed the whole face it rested upon, not that the face needed changing. It was wide and carefree, maybe even a little bit tipsy, and it was accompanied by a melodic giggle that carried across the nearly empty bar._

 

_“What’ll it be?,” the bartender asked as he walked over._

 

_He had an early meeting he should get home to prepare for, and he hadn’t been to the gym in a few days. Roslin had been texting him a bit, he could go over to her apartment and make it up to her for whatever it was she was annoyed at him about this week._

 

_“What’s that girl over there drinking?”_

 

***

 

“I don’t think there’s really a right way of reacting to it,” she shrugged, “And if there is, I haven’t found it.”

 

He couldn’t help but grin at that. He’d liked that about her from the start, she didn’t put on a front. She was guarded, surely, but she didn’t try to make you think more of her.

 

“How do you feel?,” he asked.

 

“A little sick,” she told him, “I thought it might be the flu at first. But for the most part just tired.”

 

“I could make you some tea…I think I have some?,” he suggested.

 

“That’s okay,” she demurred, “I’m sure you have some things to think about, and you shouldn’t have to worry about hiding how you feel while you do. I’ll get out of your hair.”

 

She moved to get off the couch and he grabbed her hand. She looked down at him, at their hands and he released hers.

 

“I have a few questions,” he managed to get out. She sat back down and her face became smooth and open. She did something client facing, he remembered, she could probably sit like that all night without flinching. “How far along are you? Wait, no, three months obviously, sorry. Um. Do you know if its a boy or a girl?”

 

“That’s not until the second trimester,” she told him.

 

He nodded and then realised how that might have sounded, “I don’t care. I mean, I _do_ care, obviously, but it wouldn’t like…impact my decision or anything I just… it’d help to you know… envision things…”

 

He was sweating. Her calm was unnerving. She just sat there patiently, waiting for him to stop being such a fucking moron. It was nice, in a way, but kind of annoying too.

 

She put him out of his misery by saying, “I’ll tell you as soon as I know. I get it, for me it shifts every so often.”

 

“It does?,” he wondered.

 

She nodded biting her thumbnail. Maybe she was nervous too. That made him less so, for some reason.

 

“Sometimes it’s a boy, all floppy hair and wild eyes, sometimes it’s a girl, little tutus and hideous glittery nail polish.”

 

He chuckled, and just like that they were in the room with them, laughing and chasing one another around the couch.

 

“Maybe it’s one of each,” he suggested.

 

She guffawed and shook her head, “Now you are writing checks my body is _not_ cashing.”

 

“Fine, one for now,” he teased and she giggled wind chimes. “Do you have a doctor?”

 

She shook her head and told him, “No I went to one and I _really_ didn’t like her. She was very… _perky_. You know um, just very _into_ me being pregnant.”

 

“Isn’t that kind of her job?,” he asked.

 

“Whose side are you on?,” she challenged and he held his hands up, because in truth he had no reason to defend this unknown doctor and something told him that Myrcella’s pregnancy hormones had already kicked in. “So anyway, no, I’m looking for one and am seeing my GP in the meantime.”

 

“I know someone,” he told her, happy to be able to be helpful at last. “My assistant’s husband is an obstetrician, he’s supposed to be really good. And before you ask, I’ve heard that from people other than her.”

 

“Touche,” she admitted and then she sighed, “I’d be really grateful if you could pass along his information. Thank you.”

 

“Of course,” he nodded, “I’ll email Gilly for it tonight. It’s… no trouble.”

 

“Is there anything else you want to know?,” she asked, not unkindly, “I… I didn’t get a _ton_ of information, just that everything seems normal. I’ve got a whole list of foods that I can’t eat, so if you like brie let me know and I’ll send you some… and um, otherwise, I just… I guess… I’m sorry.”

 

“You should be,” he said. Her face went white and he grinned, “You never called me. That really _wounded_ me, you know that? I thought we had something special…”

 

Her mouth popped open and then her face transformed into that smile again and she let out a laugh deep from her belly. It was impossible to hear it and not laugh along, so he did. It felt good, he hadn’t realised how tense his body had been.

 

She tucked a lock of golden hair behind her ear and stood up, grabbing her bag off of his coffee table. He stood up as well, because though he had a million questions, he was sure she wouldn’t have the answers to most of them.

 

He followed her to his front door and opened it for her. She turned around, adjusting the bag on her shoulder.

 

“You have my number, so use it,” she told him and then shrugged, “Or don’t. It’s totally up to you.”

 

He nodded and she walked out the door and towards the elevator. She pressed the button and he could see the elevator climbing up and up, _L, 2, 3, 4, 5._

 

***

 

_THREE MONTHS EARLIER_

 

_“Dry martini,” he said by way of introduction as he placed it in front of her._

 

_She looked at him and then the glass he’d set before her, “I can buy my own drinks.”_

 

_He grinned, “Yeah, your six hundred dollar shoes make that pretty clear. But this one is special.”_

 

_“Special,” she repeated, narrowing her eyes and challenged, “How is this martini special?”_

 

_He shook his head, sitting down, “Oh I can’t tell you that.”_

 

_She grinned, “Does that work?”_

 

_“Does what work?,” he asked, wondering what her dimple tasted like._

 

 _“That. You know, the ‘oh I can’t possibly tell you that’… does that really_ _make girls try and become worthy of whatever bullshit you’re spewing?,” she asked._

 

_“You’re mean,” he grinned. “I like that. Go on then, insult me. You know you want to.”_

 

_She picked up the martini and took a sip, her eyes appraising him all the while. They were jadeite, unlike any he’d ever seen._

 

_She lowered her glass, and asked, “Are you sure you can handle it?”_

 

_“Do your worst,” he goaded._

 

_“You’re brave, but foolish,” she told him, “And the trouble is you can never tell whether you’re being one or the other.”_

__

_***_

 

“Myrcella,” he called as the elevator doors opened and she stepped on. She turned around, her eyebrows raised, and she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his whole life, but that was besides the point. “I’ve got a lot to think about, millions of things really, but being a Dad… the _decision_ to be one, I mean, isn’t one of them. I’m in. I’m all in.”

 

“Which is it?,” she asked. “Bravery, or foolishness?”

 

“Both, probably,” he admitted, “Either way, I’m in.”

 

He caught the whisper of her smile as the elevator doors closed. That smile was so much more powerful than he’d given it credit for.

 

It wasn’t merely the kind of smile that changed a girl’s face, it was the kind of smile that changed your whole life.


	2. Willem and Celeste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I'm kind of shocked how many of you have left kudos, thank you so much! 
> 
> I'd love to hear what you all think! This is kind of a different version of Robb and Myrcella than I usually write, so I hope you're all enjoying. 
> 
> xo

 

It was happening all the time. In the back of taxis, at brunch, and now in the middle of a meeting.

 

“Excuse me,” she said mid-sentence and raced out of the room.

 

She just made it into the bathroom before she vomited the yogurt and berries she’d had for breakfast that morning. She flushed the toilet and just sat there for a minute, on her office bathroom floor, her head against the door.

 

She’d been told this part would pass, but it didn’t really feel like it. It felt like her body was _rejecting_ the pregnancy or something. As though the baby already knew she’d be a terrible mother. That was so sad. She let out a sob.

 

 _Fuck these hormones_ , she thought as she dug the heels of her palms into her eyes trying to get herself to stop crying.

 

These bathrooms were well versed in women crying. Often she heard sobs emanating from at least one of the stalls, but usually those were over a bad meeting or a client yelling.

 

Myrcella had never cried in one of these stalls. She didn’t cry often, and certainly not at work. On the rare occasion she screwed up she just went right into fixing it. At his company, her grandfather had a policy to have the bathrooms checked once a day. Anyone found crying was fired immediately. She’d interned there the summer after her freshman year of college.

 

Some lessons you don’t forget.

 

She picked herself up off of the floor and smoothed her dress. She opened the door and found her boss standing there, cane and all.

 

“Olenna!,” she exclaimed, covering her mouth so that she wouldn’t smell the vomit.

 

She had a toothbrush and toothpaste in her purse for when she had to go meet clients, but it wouldn’t do her much good right now.

 

The old woman narrowed her shrewd eyes at her, “If you have an eating disorder someone in HR can recommend a therapist to you.”

 

“I don’t have an eating disorder,” Ella said. _Anymore_ , she didn’t add.

 

“So you just vomit recreationally,” Olenna suggested. “Or are you _ill_? You never get sick, that’s one of my favourite things about you.”

 

Myrcella managed a weak smile and went to the sink and washed her hands. She wiped her mouth with a paper towel and turned around.

 

“No, I’m just…,” she started and Olenna raised her eyebrows. Her boss detested procreation, even though she herself had children and grandchildren. “I’m fine.”

 

Olenna didn’t look like she quite believed her, staring at her a moment longer, but she nodded and said firmly, “Good. Because we have the Frey pitch this afternoon and the old lech specifically asked for you. I’ve sat you as far away from him as I could manage while still having you in the room but…”

 

“Don’t worry,” Myrcella said, “I can handle Walder Frey.”

 

She didn’t add that she had been doing so since she was fourteen, when he’d first taken a liking to her. The truth was, she wanted to be in that pitch. He was a disgusting old pervert but he had an incredible collection of Old Masters that they wanted for the Fall season. Their competition was also pitching for the business, and Myrcella had worked hard on the proposal.

 

Plus, she’d always liked to be in at the kill.

 

“Yes, I’m sure you can,” Olenna agreed. “He’ll expect you to go for drinks afterwards.”

 

“Oh I can’t drink,” she shook her head and Olenna looked at her, “I’m… on a cleanse.”

 

Olenna rolled her eyes and hooked her arm through hers, “A _cleanse_ , what is your generation doing to your bodies that you need to _cleanse_ it every month? I’ve never done a cleanse in my life and I’m going to outlive you _all_.”

 

“Yes,” Myrcella said, her hand on her still-settling stomach, “I’m sure you will.”

 

***

 

“Am I late?,” an out of breath voice asked her as she proofread an email.

 

She looked up and there was the gorgeous face of Robb Stark, a little red, a little sweaty, but still gorgeous.

 

“No,” she shook her head, “I just got here.”

 

He nodded and sat down next to her, and she caught a whiff of his cologne. She remembered the scent, it was subtle and manly and it had made her stomach flutter a little over three months ago but now it made her stomach turn.

 

“Can you move down, please?,” she asked, covering her nose.

 

He looked at her, his brow furrowed, “What’s wrong?”

 

“You smell,” she told him and his face fell. She shook her head, “I’m sorry, you smell good probably to everyone else but right now the littlest thing is making me… _excuse me_.”

 

With that she got up and ran to the bathroom and vomited up her salad. _Add hummus to the list of things I won’t be eating_ , she thought glumly as she flushed the toilet.

 

She stood with shaky hands and clutched onto the sink. She was so tired of vomiting. She was losing weight. She was no expert but she’d heard that the opposite was supposed to happen during pregnancy.

 

She cupped her hand under the faucet until it filled with water and then she raised it to her lips. She’d had the good sense to bring in her handbag so she grabbed out the toothpaste and toothbrush and brushed diligently, rinsing her mouth with the little bottle of mouthwash she’d picked up.

 

She looked in the mirror and blanched. Her eyes looked hollow, her hair limp. Where was the _glow_ she’d heard so much about?

 

She shouldn’t care, she was just here to meet her doctor. Robb’s face flashed before her eyes. She took out a tube of lipstick and swiped some on, fluffing her hair and dabbing behind her ears with a bit of perfume. Thankfully it didn’t turn her stomach, yet.

 

She walked back out into the waiting room and found Robb standing there speaking to a man in a grey button down and charcoal slacks. The man looked nervous, his cheeks red and a bit of perspiration on his temples as he nodded at whatever Robb was saying as though Robb were a drill sergeant. It was the way she’d seen her grandfather’s employees react to him. Her mother possessed that quality too. 

 

She wasn’t sure that she liked that Robb did as well.

 

Both men turned to look at her and Robb crossed to her. He looked as though he wanted to reach for her hand but then thought better of it and stepped back a step.

  
“Sorry I don’t want to… I’ll stop wearing this cologne,” he told her.

 

She blushed and shook her head, “No it’s… I’m sorry. It’s happening all the time.”

 

He gave her a sympathetic smile and made a gesturing motion towards the man he’d been speaking to. She went over to him and held out her hand.

 

“I’m Myrcella Baratheon,” she said.

 

“Samwell Tarly,” he said, shaking hers. His was clammy but his eyes were kind. “Let’s see about this baby, shall we?”

 

She and Robb nodded and followed him into a small room. Dr. Tarly gestured to the examination table as he closed the door so she placed her bag down on the counter and took a seat at the edge.

 

“So how are you feeling?,” he asked as he washed his hands.

 

“A bit nervous, I mean _excited_ of course, just a little… apprehensive I guess?,” Robb answered and both she and Dr. Tarly turned to look at him. He blanched and gave an _aw-shucks_ grin - the same one that had gotten her into this mess in the first place - and scratched his bearded cheek, “You were talking to her, huh?”

 

Dr. Tarly made a non-committal noise and then gestured vaguely, “All feelings are um… welcome… you know it’s important to…”

 

“Sam,” Robb interrupted and the doctor stopped muttering, “Gilly isn’t afraid of me, why are you?”

 

Myrcella regretted leaving her work cell in her purse. If they were going to sort whatever this was out, she may as well catch up on emails. As it was she crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap and waited.

 

“Well,” the doctor started, and shook his head, “You see, you’re her boss, and you’re a very good boss, and I don’t want to screw this up for her because she hasn’t had such good luck in the past and… well you see… I just think that sometimes…”

 

“I can’t stop vomiting,” Myrcella cut in when she found an opening. 

 

Both men turned to look at her in tandem, as though they were just realising why they were all here. Dr. Tarly looked relieved and Robb adopted a very _concerned father_ look. He puffed out his chest and everything.

 

“This is your first child?,” Dr. Tarly asked, she nodded, “It will get better as time goes on, your body is just adjusting to the alien you have in there.”

 

She sputtered out a laugh, “The alien?”

 

He smiled and shrugged, “People tend not to like the word parasite.”

 

She looked at Robb incredulously and he gave her an _I’m so sorry_ expression. Her mind flashed back to the doctor she’d seen previously who had kept calling the baby a _miracle_ and her body a _vessel of god_ and she grinned at the doctor.

 

“Either’s fine with me,” she told him.

 

He smiled at her and then asked, “Have you tried ginger? I personally can’t stand it but it is meant to settle stomachs. They have gum, or ginger mints if you prefer?”

 

“I’ll pick some up, thank you,” she said gratefully. At this point she was willing to try anything.

 

“She looks skinny,” Robb said. She’d never heard that word sound like an insult. She didn’t realise she was glaring at him until he said, “Well you do.”

 

She held his gaze for a moment longer and his jaw clenched. She could feel Dr. Tarly looking between them, but she wouldn’t look away first.

 

“Have you lost any weight?,” Dr. Tarly asked and Robb crossed his arms and raised his brows at her.

 

She would have flipped him off but the truth was it had been worrying her.

 

“I have,” she admitted, “Only a few pounds.”

 

Dr. Tarly grimaced, “Yes well a few pounds to you and a few pounds to me are _quite_ a different thing.”

 

She nodded, digging her nails into her palm to stop her eyes from filling with tears, “I want to stop vomiting, obviously, but … is the baby getting what it needs?”

 

“Let’s see,” he said and gestured for her to lie back.

 

She did and pulled up her shirt to expose her stomach. There was a small but definite bump there. Robb looked at the ceiling and she couldn’t help but grin at Dr. Tarly who seemed to be biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

 

He turned on all the machines and then squirted some of the jelly onto her stomach. She hissed at the cold and he muttered an apology but Robb ran to her side, taking hold of her hand.

 

“Was it the baby?,” he asked, his eyes wide in terror.

 

Stupid fucking hormones. They were making her want to cry again.

 

She shook her head and explained, “It’s just cold.”

 

With his other hand Robb went to go touch the jelly but Dr. Tarly said, “Mr. Stark, why don’t you let me get in there.”

 

Robb blushed but nodded and the doctor placed the probe on her stomach. Her eyes went to the screen as he moved it around and then all of a sudden, _there it is_.

 

It was so much different than the last time. So much had changed. It looked real now.

 

_Hi, little parasite._

 

“Steady heartbeat,” Dr. Tarly told them, “Both of you.”

 

“That’s…,” Robb said, “That’s my…we’re… we’re really having a baby.”

 

“Yeah,” she nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

 

She hadn’t realised that her hand was still in his until he raised it to his lips. It was such an old-fashioned gesture that it made the first tears spill.

 

Her little parasite had completely stolen her ability to collect herself, so she let out a sob. But then again, so did Robb.

 

And then so did Dr. Tarly.

 

“Is everything alright?,” Robb asked him, quickly moving back into _concerned father_ mode.

 

It only made her cry harder.

 

Dr. Tarly nodded, wiping his eyes, “Yes, yes, I’m sorry. I’m just always so happy when I see two people who really want their child and I just think that it’s such a -“

 

“Stop,” Robb ordered and both her and Dr. Tarly flinched, “She can’t stand perkiness in her doctors.”

 

Dr. Tarly looked at her in concern, and it was so different than the other woman that she’d met with. She couldn’t quite explain it, but she _liked_ that he was happy about it. It made her even happier about it. It made it feel like they were on the same team.

 

“WE’RE HAVING A BABY, DR. TARLY,” she laugh-cried.

 

“YOU’RE HAVING A BABY!,” he cry-shouted at her. They both turned to look at Robb. He looked uncomfortable. It was Dr. Tarly who dared to goad him, “Go on, say it. You know you want to.”

 

Robb clenched his jaw and looked at her. She raised an eyebrow.

 

He let out an ecstatic laugh, “WE’RE HAVING A BABY!!”

 

“Robb, please, this is a _doctor’s office_ ,” she reprimanded.

 

He looked at her in horror and then turned to Dr. Tarly for help.

 

The doctor caught her eye and she winked at him and he turned to Robb and said, “It’s really important that the baby has a _calm_ environment.”

 

“But you just -,” Robb said and looked in between them and shook his head, “You fuckers, I’m going to regret introducing you two.”

 

“Ah, well,” Dr. Tarly sighed and then went on, “Now, let’s talk about what you have to look forward to…”

 

***

 

Robb must have taken two of every single pamphlet in Dr. Tarly’s, _Sam’s,_ office. They had made an appointment for next month and gone down the elevator together.

 

She had been assured by Dr. Tarly that she was heading into the second trimester, which was the _fun_ trimester where it all seemed possible. He told her that the morning sickness should be stopping soon and that her energy would come back a bit.

 

As it was she could barely keep her eyes open on the way onto the sidewalk.

 

“Do you want to get some dinner?,” Robb asked cheerfully.

 

It was kind of adorable, he seemed to be walking on air. Now that he had her number he had texted her a few times. Questions about different things and setting up the appointment.

 

He seemed excited, really excited. Which was strange, because she’d turned his life upside down, but she supposed he had fulfilled his biological purpose so he might just be riding the high of that. He’d lose interest eventually, but for now it was kind of sweet.

 

“No,” she said though, because she didn’t want to confuse things. They would have to sort out co-parenting eventually, if he really wanted to. They’d probably have to draw up a custody contract. And while she believed they should be on good terms, she didn’t want to muddy things either. “I’m really exhausted,” she explained though, because his face had fallen.

 

He nodded, “Yeah the pamphlet said you need to get a lot of sleep. How many hours a night are you sleeping?”

 

“Um…,” she started, because she didn’t want to tell him she’d been up until two redrafting a proposal the night before, “Enough.”

 

“Okay, well is your building loud? Because you can get a noise machine and -“

 

“My building is fine,” she told him.

 

 _It’s the noises in my head_ , she could have said, but she didn’t want him to think his Baby Mama was a crazy person.

 

He nodded and asked, “Did you drive?”

 

“No, I’m just going to grab a taxi,” she told him.

 

“Nonsense, I’ll take you,” he said and started moving forward. She stayed locked in one place, “What?”

 

“You… you don’t have to do this,” she told him, “I… I’m happy that you’re on board and everything but you don’t owe me anything, you know, um, I don’t need you to take care of me.”

 

“It’s just a ride, Myrcella,” he sighed.

 

***

 

_THREE MONTHS EARLIER_

 

_“Alright, Stark, I think this evening is over,” she said, making the signing gesture to the bartender so that she could close out her tab._

 

_“It’s still early,” he said, though it had to be one o’clock._

 

_“No,” she shook her head, “It is not early.”_

 

_He tried to pay her bill and she batted his hand away, giving the bartender a healthy tip and signing the slip before placing her credit card back in her wallet. He signed his as well._

 

_She got of the barstool and held out her hand, “It was…interesting meeting you.”_

 

_He grinned at her, that aw-shucks grin that made him look far more innocent than he was. She hated the way it made her stomach flip-flop, hated his blue eyes drinking her in like if she was the last sight he ever saw he’d die a happy man._

 

_“How are you getting home?,” he asked her._

 

_“A taxi,” she supplied, “Ever heard of ‘em?”_

 

_He grinned and shook his head, “Oh no, I can’t let you take a taxi back on your own. Not at this hour.”_

 

_“I thought you said it was early,” she pointed out, her traitorous lips turning into a half-smile._

 

_Her hand was still in his and he stood up and pulled her gently towards the door. As though in a trance she followed, her heart thud thud thudding when he interlaced their fingers._

 

_“Come on,” he said looking back at her, “It’s just a ride, Myrcella.”_

 

***

 

“I’ve heard that before,” she argued.

 

He let out a pained chuckled, “What am I going to do? Impregnate you again? Come on, you’re… you’re carrying my child, you know you’re… this like… _superhero_ and I feel totally fucking useless. Just let me give you a ride home. I won’t even walk you to your door. _You don’t even have to talk to me._ ”

 

She didn’t want to believe him, that this was real. She _wouldn’t_ believe him. Even if those blue eyes of his were begging her to. People never stayed interested for long. Not even fathers.

 

Especially not fathers.

 

“You should have lead with that,” she said haughtily, because she was afraid of what smells might be lurking in whatever taxi she got into.

 

He was true to his word, and he lead her to his car in silence. She remembered it, it was big and powerful and handsome just like him. He was a good driver, a careful one, and he drove through the city streets without her having to direct him on where to go. He’d remembered where she lived.

 

She wasn’t sure why that surprised her. It wasn’t like it pleased her or anything. He probably just had a good memory.

 

When he pulled up to her building he didn’t try to get an invitation in. She thanked him for the ride, and for introducing her to Dr. Tarly, and he told her that he was around if she needed anything. She didn’t tell him not to hold his breath, even though she wanted to.

 

She went upstairs and was surprised to find herself famished. She looked in the fridge and pulled out ingredients to make a pasta sauce, and reminding herself not to open a bottle of wine. She ate a large bowl of pasta standing at her kitchen counter, and then another, and when she was done she went and took a long bath.

 

She washed her hair twice and blew it dry, because she hated sleeping with it wet, and when she looked in the mirror to apply her moisturiser, her eyes caught on an exceptionally pretty girl.

 

The circles under her eyes were gone and her hair looked shiny and full. She looked like herself again.

 

She pulled on her comfiest pajamas and got into bed, turning on the tv to see what was on. She looked at her phone and saw that she had a text from Robb.

 

_What do you think of the name Celeste?_

 

She put the phone down, ignoring the flip-flopping in her stomach. She hoped she wouldn’t have to write pasta off too. She flicked through the channels and settled on _When Harry Met Sally._ They were both watching _Casablanca_ in bed.

 

She picked up the phone without thinking and pressed _call_ , and he picked up on the second ring.

 

“There was a really mean girl in my ballet class named Celeste,” she told him instead of saying hello, “She told me that I sounded like a rhinoceros when I landed.”

 

He chuckled, “Well then Celeste is definitely out. No daughter of mine is going to be a mean girl.”

 

She rubbed her stomach, “What if it’s a boy?”

 

“Well then Celeste definitely wouldn’t work,” he teased and she rolled her eyes. “Is that _When Harry Met Sally?_ ”

 

“Yeah, sorry I’ll turn it down,” she said.

 

“No, no, what channel?,” he asked.

 

“302,” she told him, and then she heard Billy Crystal’s voice echoing.

 

“I love this movie, but it’s such bullshit, men and women can totally be friends,” he said.

 

“How many girl friends do you have?,” she asked him.

 

“Well my sisters -“

 

“Don’t count,” she scoffed, “They’re your _sisters_. How many non-related girl friends do you have?”

 

“That depends,” he said, “Are we going to be friends?”

 

“As opposed to enemies?,” she clarified.

 

He chuckled, “Sure.”

 

She sighed, “Fine.”

 

“Did you really have to think about that?,” he asked and she could hear his smile.

 

She hated that it beckoned her own.

 

“What about Willem?,” she asked.

 

He groaned, “Abso _lutely_ not, this douchebag named Willem cheated on my sister Sansa when she was a freshman in high school. I had to get a tetanus shot from when his teeth scraped my knuckles.”

 

“Did he bite you?,” she shuddered.

 

“No, I was punching him in the face, but that’s besides the point,” he said and she chuckled, “Willem is _out_. How about Chester?”

 

“Chester? CHESTER?!,” she shouted.

 

He chuckled on the other end, “See how it feels? Being teased isn’t always that nice, is it?”

 

“God you’re a piece of work,” she grinned.

 

“Pot, kettle, Baratheon,” he pointed out.

 

“Our little parasite is fucked,” she lamented, rubbing her belly in what she hoped was a soothing manner.

 

“Poor little alien.”


	3. Auntie Sansa

“Mom,” he said firmly, “I’ve gotten a girl pregnant.”

 

“You’ve… you’ve gotten a girl pregnant…,” she said.

 

“Yes,” he nodded.

 

She smiled, “You’re getting _married_ how wonderful!”

 

“Wait what? No, I’m not getting married, I hardly know her…,” he said.

 

Her brow furrowed, “And yet you know her well enough to impregnate her. Robbert Hoster Stark…are you a… a _slut_?”

 

“SHE WOULD NOT SAY THAT!,” he chuckled.

 

Sansa giggled, “There’s no way of knowing that for sure. I just want you to be prepared for _all_ possibilities.”

 

He tossed a throw pillow at her and groaned. It landed on her dog Lady who let out an annoyed sigh.

 

He had called Sansa five minutes after Myrcella had left his apartment the night she’d told him. Sansa had always been the person he brought everything to, and she’d rushed over, Lady in tow, and listened as he ranted and raved his way through it.

 

She hadn’t told him he was unprepared, or that he should have imagined this would happen one day given the way he lived his life, she had just listened and when he told her that he wanted to be a Dad to this baby, a _real_ Dad, like theirs, she had only smiled and said _And you’re going to be a great one_.

 

They’d always been the closest, the two of them. All of their siblings were close, but Sansa had always been his best friend. Not that he’d tell Theon that. She had always been there for him though, wise beyond her years, calm and gentle and strong.

 

And a truly sensational cook. Which was why he came over to her apartment for dinner more nights than not.

 

They’d just finished dinner and he’d done the dishes while she took Lady out for a walk. He’d made them some tea and they’d settled on opposite couches and he’d asked for her help strategising how to tell his parents.

 

Well really his Mom.

 

His Dad would show no emotion and simply say _You’ll do the right thing_ and that would be that. His Mom though was a different story. She had high hopes for him, hopes that included a bid for office one day. Hopes that didn’t include having a child out of wedlock.

 

Wedlock. It was so archaic. The whole idea of it.

 

He wasn’t sure that he had ever been one for marriage. He wasn’t one of the kids in his generation that grew up disillusioned by their parents divorce. His parent’s marriage was solid granite. It was almost _too_ stable. So maybe he had been reverse damaged. That didn’t really sound like a thing though.

 

But he had never met a girl that he wanted to be with in the in-between bits. The hard times, even the good times really. He had his family and his friends for that, and no girl had never seemed to fit into it.

 

He had never really pictured having children. He always assumed he would, but he’d never really given it much thought. It was kind of like a colonoscopy, something he knew logically would happen when he was an adult, a real adult, but too hypothetical to really dwell on.

 

He made a mental note to never compare his unborn child to a colonoscopy again.

 

“I think you’re overthinking it, Robby,” Sansa said after a minute, “It’s Mom. Show her the picture from the ultrasound and she’ll be so busy buying things for a nursery that she won’t have time to yell at you.”

 

“I’m not worried about her yelling at me,” he said and Sansa fixed him with a look, “Well who likes being yelled at?”

 

Sansa giggled and shook her head, “She’s got all these plans for us, you know, but she loves us no matter what.”

 

“So does that mean you’ll tell her Theon asked you to marry him?,” he goaded.

 

“He didn’t mean it,” she said softly.

 

He could understand why she thought that. They’d all been hammered and Sansa had brought them back here and gotten Theon settled into bed. He’d been helping her, because Theon was all limbs when he was drunk. Theon had grabbed her, all but pulling her on top of him and Robb had looked away. And then he’d simply said _Be my wife, Sansa Stark._

 

She had righted herself and told him to sleep it off, turning out the light and ushering him out of the room. Theon hadn’t brought it up again, so Sansa didn’t know about the ring he’d been carrying around for weeks.

 

Their Mom thought that Sansa dating Theon was a phase. A bad boy faze that she’d grow out of some day and be with someone serious. She didn’t realise that Sansa had made Theon serious, and that no one would think to call him a bad boy when he stood in line at Nan’s bakery on Saturday mornings to get Sansa lemon scones straight from the oven.

 

Their Mom loved Theon, the way mothers always loved the too-loud, always-around, questionable-decision making best friends of their sons. It was different than the way she expected to love Sansa’s future husband.

 

He had known from the start that it wasn’t a phase. He’d been there the night they’d gotten together. Theon had been at the bar hitting on some girl and Sansa had come in and sat next to him at the booth. She’d been fuming, her cheeks all blotchy, her eyes smarting.

 

_You know he’s just biding his time until you’re ready to admit it._

 

_Ready to admit what?_

 

_That you love him, too._

 

She’d looked over at him, her eyes wide in apology and he’d smiled at her. She’d stolen his glass of whiskey, tossing it back and then walked right over, tapped Theon on the shoulder and kissed him.

 

And that had been that.

 

“Sure he didn’t,” he returned.

 

Sansa sighed, running her fingers through her long auburn hair and tucked her feet up under her.

 

“Tell me about her,” she prompted. Not for the first time.

 

“Why are you so interested?,” he evaded.

 

She rolled her eyes, “Because she’s going to be the mother of your child. She’s going to be in our lives _forever_.”

 

 _Forever_. It was such a big word.

 

He shrugged, “I don’t know… she’s…,” _aloof, confusing, beautiful,_ “Complicated.”

 

“Complicated,” Sansa repeated and looked at him, “I’ve never heard you describe a girl that way before.”

 

He rolled his eyes, “Stop it.”

 

“Stop what?,” she asked innocently.

 

“Designing her wedding gown in your head!,” he clarified, though he really didn’t have to. She knew exactly what she was doing. “She can hardly stand being in the same room as me.”

 

“What did you do to her?,” Sansa asked snidely.

 

“Other than the obvious, you mean?,” he asked snidely back. She picked the throw pillow up off of Lady and it hit him straight in the face. “Why do you assume I did anything? Maybe she’s just…”

 

“Complicated?,” Sansa supplied and he nodded. “Can I meet her?”

 

“What? No. I don’t want to freak her out,” he shook his head, “She looks at me like I’m a wild animal half the time, bringing in the cavalry is hardly going to help.”

 

“But _I’m_ not the cavalry,” Sansa insisted, getting off of the couch she was sitting and crossing over to his. “Come on, I’ll be nice… you know I can… help make her see that there is more to you than just a playboy.”

 

He bit his thumbnail. Sansa _was_ good at these things. She had a way with people, and she was the same age as Myrcella. Not that he was ancient or anything, only a couple years older, but Sansa probably had more in common with Myrcella than he did.

 

“Well who says I _want_ her to see more in me?,” he pointed out.

 

“Robb,” Sansa sighed, taking his hand, “In this country, 70% of custody battles are found in favour of the mother. That is _sole custody_. Trust me, you are going to want Myrcella Baratheon to see a whole lot more in you if you want to raise this child alongside her.”

 

He hadn’t really thought of that. Everything had been collegial so far. Myrcella wasn’t the fuzziest person in the world, well she had been with Sam, and the administrator at the doctor’s office… _huh_. Even still, he couldn’t really imagine her keeping his child from him. She didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him, that much was clear, but for some reason he trusted her.

 

Even still, better safe than sorry.

 

“You’ll be normal?,” Robb asked.

 

“Totally normal,” Sansa promised.

 

***

 

“It’ll be totally normal,” he assured her. He was met with silence on the other end. “Myrcella?”

 

He had played this all wrong. He had called her out of the blue, which had thrown her off _enough_ , and then gone right into asking about lunch. He wasn’t even so sure that he thought it was a good idea and he was trying to sell her on it and he knew he’d come across strange.

 

There was something about this situation, and maybe a little bit her, that threw him off his game in a way he’d never experienced. He was _never_ flustered or caught of guard or unsure or _anything_. He wondered if this was how other people felt all the time. It was exhausting.

 

“It will just be your sister, Sansa?,” she asked.

 

“Well, I’ll be there too,” he said a little petulantly.

 

She chuckled, “I meant no one else from your family?”

 

“Just us, I promise,” he nodded, though she couldn’t see him. And then, because he couldn’t help himself he added, “You’ll like her, everyone does.”

 

“I’m free on Saturday,” she said after a little while. “But Robb?”

 

He braced himself for a warning, or a condition, or, “Yes, Myrcella?”

 

“The parasite is craving croissants. So many croissants. So…can we…”

 

“I know just the place.”

 

***

 

“Calm down,” he ordered.

 

“You calm down,” Sansa ordered back.

 

Which wasn’t entirely fair, because he wasn’t the one practically vibrating in his seat.

 

They had just been seated in the back garden of Nan’s bakery, bowls of water had been placed for Grey Wind and Lady and Sansa had sat herself in the shade to avoid burning - which for her could happen in under five minutes.

 

He definitely wasn’t vibrating, but he was a bit nervous. He’d been thinking a lot about what Sansa said. Previously he had thought of Myrcella as the gorgeous girl who never called, one of the best nights of his life, his baby mama, but now he understood that she was also the gatekeeper to his child. So really, other than his child, she was the most important person in his world.

 

This woman he hardly knew, who he was pretty sure didn’t like him.

 

A waitress was walking by and he grabbed her, “Do you have any croissants left?”

 

“Yeah a bunch,” she nodded.

 

“Can you put a hold on them?,” he asked.

 

“There’s like a hundred of them…,” she scoffed.

 

“I really need you to be on my team here,” he pleaded.

 

“Robb! Leave her alone,” Sansa demanded and turned to the waitress and said sweetly, “We’ll just take some menus and some glasses of ice water whenever you have a chance, thank you.”

 

The waitress nodded gratefully at Sansa and walked away. He glared at her and she rolled her eyes, petting Grey Wind and telling him that his daddy was a crazy person.

 

It had been Sansa’s idea to bring Lady and Grey Wind, an opportunity to show Myrcella that he was responsible and caring. Plus, Lady’s devotion to him never hurt anyone’s opinion of him. He leaned down and scratched behind her ears, and she rolled over onto his feet completely.

 

His phone dinged and it was Myrcella saying _Just got here, should I grab a table?_

 

He typed back quickly _We got a table out back._

 

“She’s here,” he told Sansa, “Act normal.”

 

“Says the guy who just tried to get a sixteen year old to load a wheelbarrow full of croissants…,” Sansa pointed out.

 

He tried to glare at her but he sputtered out a laugh and she giggled, which calmed him enormously. Even still a moment later he felt the air change around him and the hair on his arms stood up.

 

“Hi, you must be Sansa,” a warm voice said from behind him.

 

“Hi! Myrcella?,” Sansa said standing up so he did too, “It’s so wonderful to meet you!”

 

“Likewise, Robb has said such lovely things,” Myrcella said, though he wasn’t entirely sure that was true.

 

To his utter surprise, Myrcella stepped forward and kissed both of Sansa’s cheeks in greeting, the pair of them holding one another’s hands.

 

She looked gorgeous in a light blue sundress that wrapped at the front, her hair up in a ponytail. He shouldn’t be surprised by it, her beauty, but somehow he still was every time he saw her. She looked a little less skinny than when he’d seen her a week and a half earlier - though he knew enough not to tell her so.

 

Lady and Grey Wind had both risen and were actively trying to crawl into Myrcella’s lap even though she was standing.

 

“Lady,” Sansa reprimanded softly.

 

“Oh it’s alright,” Myrcella smiled, kneeling down to pet both of them.

 

They both wove around her legs, nuzzling her cheeks, and Grey Wind was sniffing her stomach.

 

“Ohhh I see what’s going on here,” Myrcella cooed, as she pet him, “Do you smell the little parasite? Is that it? Are you going to love them so so much?”

 

Sansa looked at him and mouthed _oh my god_ and he mouthed back _NORMAL._ She scrunched her nose at him and all but wiggled and he focused his attention back on Myrcella.

 

“What’s his name?,” she asked him.

 

“Grey Wind,” he told her.

 

“Grey Wind,” she murmured, as his dog nuzzled her cheek, “I think we’re going to be great friends, you and I.”

 

He felt something deep in his stomach that he’d never quite felt before. He wondered if he was somehow getting _sympathy symptoms_ , because he was pretty sure this must be what morning sickness felt like.

 

She stood up and planted a brief kiss on his cheek and sat down in the empty chair. He and Sansa retook their seats and the waitress came with three waters. He ordered a black coffee, Sansa ordered a lavender latte to which Myrcella said _ooh jealous_ and then she ordered a jasmine tea for herself.

 

“Thank you so much for agreeing to this,” Sansa started off, “I know everything must be really overwhelming and the last thing I want to do is add to your plate.”

 

Myrcella smiled warmly at her, waving her off, “I’m so happy you suggested it. Now apologies, but I think pregnancy brain has already gotten to me a bit, are you the sister who is the designer or the one who just got back from Braavos?”

 

Sansa glanced at him and he shook his head. He hadn’t told her that. He hadn’t really told her much about his family at all except -

 

***

 

_THREE MONTHS EARLIER_

 

_“Don’t do that,” she ordered._

 

_“Don’t do what?,” he grinned, taking a sip of his whiskey, because he knew exactly what he’d been doing._

 

_“Talk about how special your sisters are to you like that means you aren’t some kind of womaniser. The way you treat your sisters has nothing to do with the way you treat girls you are seeing,” she said._

 

_He chuckled, because she was right. The person he was with Sansa and Arya was totally different than the one most girls met. But he loved Sansa and Arya, they were his sisters, the lights of his life._

 

_She was the first girl to ever call him on it, most girls swooned when he told them that his sister Sansa was his best friend._

 

_She wasn’t most girls though, that much had been obvious since the moment he’d sat down._

 

_“You’re right,” he told her, and then shook his head, “Smart, mean and beautiful. You really are perfect huh?”_

 

_She rolled her eyes, “I’m not mean, I just don’t eat up whatever you say with a soup ladle.”_

 

_He grinned, thinking about how he’d like to eat her up with a soup ladle. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, sexy, but only incidentally._

 

_“But you are beautiful,” he told her, “I should introduce you and Sansa, she’s always looking for models.”_

 

_“Something you two have in common?,” Myrcella asked with a raised brow and then smiled._

 

_He chuckled, “Perhaps, but for different reasons. She’s an insanely talented fashion designer. I mean, I don’t understand any of the clothes she makes, which must mean they are pretty great, right?”_

 

_She giggled, “That’s very cool, is she the creative one in the family?”_

 

 _He nodded, “Yeah, she’s the creative one, Arya is the wanderer - she’s just come back from a year in Braavos with pink hair - my mom_ flipped - _Bran is the brainiac and Rickon is… well we haven’t really figured out what Rickon is yet.”_

 

_She smiled, a real, small smile, for herself, not for anyone else. She took a sip of her martini and set it down._

 

_“And which one are you?,” she asked. Really asked._

 

 _If she were any other girl he would have said_ Whichever one you want me to be.

 

_But she wasn’t any other girl, so he told her, “The one who is going to make damn sure they get to be whatever they want to.”_

 

_“Pink hair and all?,” she teased._

 

_He grinned, “Pink hair and all.”_

 

***

 

He smiled to himself and shook his head.

 

“I’m the designer,” Sansa said, “Though I did visit Arya for Braavosi fashion week, I gained four pounds, it was amazing.”

 

Myrcella giggled, “Oh the food there is incredible! I studied abroad there in university and I found this little bar that makes the most amazing -“

 

“Dumplings!?!,” Sansa asked and Myrcella nodded excitedly. “I love that place! Arya took me there after one of the after parties. I’m pretty sure 4 am dumplings are my religion.”

 

“Amen to that,” Myrcella said, raising her glass of water to clink against Sansa’s.

 

The waitress came and brought their drinks and asked if they were ready. Sansa admitted that they hadn’t even looked yet and the waitress scoffed and walked away. Myrcella gave Sansa an _oh shit_ expression and the pair of them giggled as they made a big show of picking up their menus.

 

He was beginning to feel a little bit like a third wheel but he didn’t want to _ruin_ this by jumping in. Myrcella seemed instantly comfortable with Sansa in a way that she never had with him - well except for when they were in bed, but that didn’t really seem like the solution here. _Unless…No._

 

“So what’s good here?,” Myrcella asked them.

 

“Everything,” he and Sansa answered in tandem and he chuckled as Sansa stuck her tongue out at him. She went on to say, “The lemon scones are my favourite, but I’m _starved_ so I’ll probably get the ricotta and honey on toast with the side of berries…”

 

“Oooh I miss ricotta,” Myrcella lamented, and he felt a pang of guilt but then she made an adorable little bobbing motion with her head as though to say _no matter_ and she continued looking at the menu.

 

This was it. His in.

 

“The croissants here are really good,” he told her.

 

She blanched, “Ugh croissants? Don’t even say that word… those have been added to the no no list.”

 

_Fucking hell I can’t catch a break._

 

“I need something spicy,” she went on as though nothing was amiss, “Have you had their chorizo omelette?”

 

He nodded, “It’s so good, and Nan makes this jalepeno butter for the toast too - if you’re not off carbs entirely.”

 

She all but moaned and he felt his pulse sky rocket, “That sounds incredible, I’m going to run to the ladies, if she comes back will you order that for me? Oh and a side of berries and a side of hash browns?” He grinned because her appetite was obviously back in a big way which had to mean the baby was growing and he nodded, “Thanks _ooh_ and if I got a lemon scone would you share it with me, Sansa?”

 

“I mean, definitely yes,” Sansa agreed and Myrcella smiled and got up.

 

She walked into the restaurant and Grey Wind whimpered, making as though he was going to follow her.

 

He pet his head and said, “Don’t worry, buddy, she’ll be back.”

 

His dog laid his head in his lap and looked up at him, as though to say _when_ , and he stroked his head. He shouldn’t be surprised, Grey Wind was the most devoted dog in the world, of course he would sense the baby, but even still it was… odd to see his loyalty so instantly encompass another person.

 

“Robb,” Sansa said. “That’s the girl.”

 

“Yeah, obviously that’s Myrcella,” he agreed.

 

She shook her head, “No, that is _the_ girl. And what are you talking about she’s not warm and fuzzy? She’s so sweet.”

 

_Yeah, to you._

 

“She has never acted like that,” he shook his head, “She’s… _she’s playing you_.”

 

Sansa cackled, “Playing me? To what end? You are a loon, and you just don’t want to admit that she likes me better than you.”

 

He sipped his coffee because it was possible that she was a little bit right. He had no idea who the fuck the girl who had just been sitting with them was. She was so _nice_ and open and friendly and pretty and… _enough_.

 

Myrcella had certainly softened with Sam, and during the ultrasound, and a little bit on the phone, but it was like her personality had barbed wire around it with him most of the time. Like the second she gave an inch she stepped a whole foot back.

 

It was confusing, and kind of hot, but mostly just confusing.

 

He was going to retort with something but the waitress came and took their order. She was far too apathetic to ask about the croissants and she took their menus wordlessly.

 

Myrcella came back a moment later and picked up her tea. She leaned back and took a sip, her hand rubbing her stomach slightly.

 

She opened her eyes and saw him gazing, and her cheeks turned pink, “I popped, a bit. I have a little bump now, I’m still getting used to it.”

 

“That’s good,” he said, feeling a strange desire to both mount her but also create a protective bubble around her that no one could penetrate.

 

“This is so weird,” Sansa said and he wanted to say _then don’t fucking say it_ , but she went on, “But… could I?”

 

“Oh, sure!,” Myrcella nodded, lifting her hand off of her stomach.

 

Sansa scooted her chair closer to her and reached her hand out tentatively, her fingertips just touching Myrcella. Her mouth dropped open and she flattened her hand against Myrcella’s stomach, “Oh my god, it’s a little bump!”

 

“I know!,” Myrcella grinned, and then teased, “You don’t design maternity clothes, do you?”

 

Sansa smiled, “Not yet, but maybe you’ll be my muse.”

 

Myrcella giggled and then took on a solemn face, “So, I have a _very_ important question for you.” Sansa retracted her hand and sat up straight and nodded. “Are you going to be Aunt Sansa or Auntie Sansa?”

 

He couldn’t help but grin as Sansa let out a little sob. Myrcella’s face fell but Sansa waved her off, “Au-au-aun-auntie Sansa.”

 

“Okay,” Myrcella nodded, “I…I’m so sorry.”

 

“No, I’m sorry,” Sansa said, wiping her tears, “I just…”

 

“I get it,” Myrcella promised. She turned to him and her eyebrow raised, “Do you… um… you don’t have to but… you can… feel if you want or not if that’s weird I… don’t know…”

 

It was just like before, her nervousness absolved him of his, like there was only so much nervous energy allowed between the two of them and they were sharing it, taking turns.

 

“No, it’s not weird,” he assured her.

 

He scooted his chair closer to hers and laid his hand down carefully. Even with the bump, her torso was very small and his hand was large and he didn’t want to touch anything he wasn’t supposed to.

 

It was firm and defined, as small as it was, and he splayed his hand over it.

 

_Hi little alien._

 

“It’s bigger,” he grinned, “Than even last week.”

 

She nodded with a smile, “I know, I’ve gained like seven pounds, can’t you tell?”

 

“What? No, of course not,” he shook his head.

 

She grinned, “Liar,” and then looked at Sansa, “Bet you put the fear of god in him about ever commenting on a girl’s weight, huh?”

 

She giggled, “How’d you know?”

 

“I did the same with-,” and then she stopped and her face fell slightly. Grey Wind popped up immediately to her side and laid his head in her lap. “Just a guess.”

 

She was lying. His hand was still on her, he had felt her tense when she’d said it. Her face didn’t show a thing, it was well trained, but he’d felt it.

 

He removed his hand and slid his chair back to its original spot. Grey Wind stayed put, Myrcella’s hand stroking his head absentmindedly as she asked Sansa all about her line and told her about an upcoming auction of couture owned by some dead socialite which sounded a little creepy to him - why did girls love wearing things once owned by dead women? - but made Sansa nearly squeal in excitement and they made a plan for her to visit Myrcella at work to get a preview tour.

 

By the end of brunch it became perfectly clear that even if _he_ was banned from seeing his child, Sansa never would be, so it had been a success. For Sansa.

 

Myrcella insisted on treating _since I ate more than both of you combined!_ and by the time they were walking back out onto the street the sky was growing dark and it was starting to look like rain.

 

“Well guys, I’ve got to run to meet Theon at the movies,” Sansa said, “But Robby I’ll see you at Mom and Dad’s tomorrow?,” he nodded, kissing her cheek and she turned to Myrcella, “And… I’ll see you soon?”

 

“So soon,” Myrcella promised and they hugged briefly.

 

Sansa gave him Lady’s leash and held her hand out for a taxi, four stopping immediately for her.

 

Myrcella looked up, pulling a cardigan out of her bag and pulling it on.

 

“Thanks again, for doing this,” he said, “It really meant a lot to her.”

 

 _And me,_ he didn’t say.

 

“Yeah, of course,” she said and tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear, “It meant a lot to me too.”

 

He didn’t want to push his luck so he said, “Should I hail you a taxi?”

 

She shook her head, “I can’t really stand the smell of them right now. I walked over here, that’s why I was a little late.”

 

“Oh, okay,” he nodded. “I have my car here or I’d offer to walk you - _not that you aren’t capable of walking yourself_.”

 

She grinned, “You’re learning,” and then clutched her stomach, “But at this point I think I’d have to roll myself home. Would you… well would it be… I…”

 

“Come on,” he said, “Let’s get you and the little alien home.”

 

“Okay,” she nodded, and they started walking towards his car, “And if you _wanted_ to leave Grey Wind with me then -“

 

“Don’t even think about it,” he chuckled, “You can’t steal my sister and my dog in the same day…that’s very greedy.”

 

She giggled, “Fine. At least let me hold his leash.”

 

“Don’t make me regret this, Baratheon,” he sighed as he handed her the leash.

 

Her fingertips brushed his knuckles as she took it from him and his pulse spiked again.

 

She looked up at him, all wide eyes and pink cheeks, “I won’t if you won’t.”

 

His mind wandered to all sorts of terrible places so he kept walking, facing forward, letting Lady and Grey Wind lead the way. He and Myrcella fell into silence, and it felt kind of nice, to just be with her for a second.

 

“How about Jenny?,” she asked as they neared his car.

 

“Not bad,” he admitted, and then looked at her, “Is it a girl today?”

 

She smiled and rubbed her stomach, “I think so. And if so, I hope she looks just like Sansa.”

 

“Because looking like you would be so bad?,” he questioned.

 

He expected her to smile, maybe laugh, or scoff. But he should have known by now that when it came to her, he was always going to be wrong.

 

“My face is unlucky,” she said softly.

 

He begged to differ. That face would launch a thousand ships, that face would open every door, it was the kind of face you’d never forget, even if you saw it only once in a magazine you were flipping through.

 

But something in her tone told him this wasn’t up for discussion.

 

“How about Sawyer?,” he suggested.

 

“Yes for a girl, no for a boy,” she answered.

 

They’d gotten no closer to deciding on a name by the time they got to her apartment, but even still when she pressed a kiss to his cheek and promised to call if she needed anything, it felt like progress all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to beg, but I'd really love to hear what you all think!


	4. Unconventional Cravings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo sorry it's been such a minute! I've gotten super consumed with 'Lost and Found' which I hope you all check out if you haven't already! 
> 
> It was really strange but fun getting back into writing this version of Myrcella and Robb, which is so different than all my other versions of them.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! xx

_Hey! Want a ride to the doctors today?_

 

She’d seen the text a couple of hours ago but hadn’t responded.

 

It was a silly thing to be unsure of, they were both going to the same place and they’d realised that her office was on the way from his. It was harmless. Meaningless.

 

Except that nothing was meaningless between them.

 

How could it be? She was carrying his child. Nothing would ever be meaningless again.

 

 _If it ever was in the first place_.

 

It was nearing four o’clock and she’d have to leave in the next hour. She typed back _No, thank you. I’ll be coming from a client’s house._

 

It wasn’t the truth, but it could have been.

 

She got a text from him immediately _Cool, I’ll see you there. Steal me a Tonet if you see one_.

 

She felt the smile on her face and let it stay for a moment before she banished it. She turned her phone over and opened up an email from a client.

 

_Dear Myrcella,_

 

_In follow-up to our meeting last week, I’d like to add two more pieces to the consignment. Of course, I hope this means we can revise the terms…_

 

She sighed and reviewed the items he wanted to sell. One they wouldn’t want, another they really would. She called the specialists for estimates and the business managers for term approvals and before she knew it she was going to be late.

 

She closed out of everything and ran out of the office and down into the car she’d arranged to pick her up. Her morning sickness had thankfully abated, but she didn’t want to take any chances. Plus, Robb had sent her this article about a woman who was pregnant and road in a taxi and got some horrible disease that affected the baby. He’d sent it along with an offer of a ride anywhere, anytime, but even still she had been tempted to send him the bill for the car service she’d been employing ever since.

 

She answered a few more emails on the way, deleting one from her mother and another from Trystane, and the driver pulled up in front of the doctor’s office a few minutes later.

 

“Thank you,” she said to him.

 

“Would you like me to wait, Miss Baratheon?,” he asked.

 

The smooth leather interior of Robb’s car flashed before her eyes, his hands gripping the steering wheel, the way his hand went out automatically in front of her whenever he made a left turn.

 

“Yes, please,” she said, “I shouldn’t be more than an hour.”

 

He nodded at her and she got out of the car and walked into the waiting room. She smiled at the receptionist who motioned for her to take a seat and she saw Robb on his phone, a frown on his face.

 

He looked gorgeous in a pair of charcoal slacks and a light pink shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his suit jacket discarded on the seat next to him. His hair was a bit longer than the last time she’d seen him, she preferred it this way.

 

_No, you don’t care how long his hair is, because it is irrelevant to you._

 

She took a deep breath and walked over to him, “This seat taken?”

 

He looked up and all at once the frown left his face and he smiled at her, that _aw-shucks_ grin.

 

“Room for two more,” he teased and she couldn’t help but smile back.

 

He picked up his jacket and draped it over his lap and she sat down. The seats were small and close together and so she could tell that he wasn’t wearing cologne. To her dismay, he smelled good anyway.

 

“How are you feeling?,” he asked.

 

“Good,” she nodded with a smile, because it felt good to say so. “Really good, I mean I feel like a balloon but otherwise I feel kind of…amazing.”

 

He smiled, “You look amazing.” She blushed and looked down at her lap and he went on, “I mean you look like you _feel_ amazing. You’ve um… got the glow I think.”

 

“It’s unbelievable what not puking four times a day will do for a girl,” she demurred and he chuckled.

 

“I’d wager it’s a bit more than that,” he said, nudging his arm against hers.

 

She felt it in her whole body.

 

She was about to move away from him when Sam entered the waiting room, “Ah if it isn’t my favourite parents-to-be!”

 

Robb stood up and held out his hand for her, but as if he’d realised what he was doing he let it fall to his side. She could have rubbed his arm or squeezed his hand but it was better this way, so she simply walked over to Sam.

 

“Hi Dr. Tarly,” she said with a smile.

 

“Hello Myrcella, please call me Sam, hello Robb,” their doctor greeted them.

 

Myrcella was proud of him for not excessively sweating in Robb’s presence again. He still didn’t seem entirely at ease but he extended his arm, gesturing into the same room they’d gone into last time and so she lead the way.

 

She set her bag down and sat on the examination table and Robb stood with his back against it, his arms casually crossed. He seemed more at ease this time as well, and there was that confidence she remembered from the first time she’d met him.

 

She’d known her fair share of overly confident men. Her family was swarming with them, her uncles were all peacocks in their own way, even Tyrion who liked to feign modesty had an unnatural assurance about his own intelligence - always shocked when its limitations showed themselves. Joffrey and Harry, and perhaps Trystane most of all.

 

She knew the swagger that accompanied that confidence, the booming of a voice that had never once considered someone might not wish to hear it, the way even a compliment felt vaguely insulting.

 

Robb’s was different.

 

He was sure of himself, that was quite clear. But his was the kind of confidence that made you feel confident too, it didn’t put you on edge, it lulled you into comfort.

 

Between the two it was the far more dangerous.

 

She folded her hands in her lap and focused her attention on Dr. Tarly, fighting the urge to scoot away from Robb and the peculiar way he smelled of snow.

 

“So, _Myrcella,_ ” Sam said pointedly, probably trying to avoid what happened at the last appointment, “How are you feeling?”

 

“ _Amazing_ ,” she gushed and both men smiled. “The morning sickness has _totally_ stopped, and I’m not really achy anymore either… I am craving _a lot_ though.”

 

“Ah, yes well, that’s to be expected,” Sam nodded, his eyebrows raised as he asked, “Anything specific?”

 

“Salsa,” she sighed, glancing at them, “So much salsa. And um… steak frites. And ratatouille, strangely. I watched the movie, you know um… to practice and -“

 

“Practice what?,” Robb wondered.

 

“Watching kids movies, what do you _think_?,” she snapped.

 

“And are you experiencing any mood swings?,” Sam asked.

 

She turned back to him and smiled calmly, “No not really.”

 

Robb threw up his arms and walked away and Dr. Tarly winked at her. She wasn’t exactly sure how they’d both independently come to the conclusion to mess with Robb at every chance they got, but she was glad to have a teammate.

 

“Alright well I’m going to take a bit more blood to finish up those tests, so Robb why don’t you sit down,” Sam suggested.

 

Robb balked, “Why do you need _my_ blood?”

 

Sam blushed, “I don’t, it’s just that I’ve noticed sometimes fathers have a sort of… _reaction_ to seeing the blood and -“

 

“What, like _fainting_?,” Robb asked and then laughed, “Please.”

 

Sam made a non-committal sound and Myrcella rolled up the sleeve of her dress. If Robb wanted to prove his masculinity that was his business. She pulled her phone out of her bag and checked a few emails. She didn’t mind having blood taken as long as she didn’t have to look at it, and besides she felt perpetually behind at work these days.

 

“So there are some things I’d like to talk to you about, can you come over after?,” Robb asked.

 

She wasn’t entirely sure when he’d crossed to her but all she could smell was snow. She felt his breath on her cheek and something in her body lurched.

 

When she turned she found him standing what had to be inappropriately close to her, his blue eyes looking down at her.

 

“Things?,” she wondered.

 

He nodded, and for a moment she could have sworn that his eyes fell to her lips, but he breathed deeply and then they were looking into hers once again.

 

“Okay,” she said dumbly, even though she hadn’t felt comfortable with so much as a ride from him earlier, and then shook her head, “No I um… well… do you want to come to my apartment? I’ve cooked enough for an army this week and I have paint chips.”

 

He grinned and teased, “Please tell me that’s not what you’ve been eating with the salsa…”

 

Sam snorted and they both turned to look at him, just as he was proffering a needle. An incredibly _large_ needle.

 

“But she’s got such a little arm!,” Robb protested, picking it up and flailing it about, “Look at this thing.”

 

“Robb,” she laughed, “It’s fine,” then turned to him, “Just keep talking to me, k?”

 

He looked at her, “K. So, paint chips?”

 

She nodded, “For the baby’s room.”

 

He smiled, “Oh, you’re _nesting_.”

 

Her brow furrowed, “I’m not a parakeet, Robb.”

 

“Oh don’t be like that,” he chided, “Nesting is a _very_ important part of pregnancy. It helps you feel connected to your _womb_.”

 

Sam burst out laughing, unfortunately at the same time he was going to draw the blood.

 

“Ow!”

 

“Sorry, sorry, whoopsie let’s try again, silence please,” Sam said.

 

She felt a pinch and her eyes snapped to Robb’s not wanting to see the blood leaving her body. She hadn’t thrown up in over a week. She had no inclination to end that streak now.

 

“So paint chips,” Robb said, intent on distracting her. “What colors are you thinking?”

 

“I’ve been thinking green lately,” she told him, “Sort of a pale jade color.”

 

“Like your eyes,” he smiled.

 

She blushed, “Is that horribly narcissistic of me?”

 

His eyes crinkled at her and he shook his head, “No, no it’s a beautiful color.” His pupils dilated as he looked down at her and she could feel her heart beating in her ears. He cleared his throat and shook his head and then smiled, “And um, you know that’s good. Because it works for a baby boy or girl.”

 

She nodded and looked away, “Right my thoughts exactly. So…my place?”

 

Robb blushed, “Y-your place?”

 

They were playing hot potato with the nerves. She was happy for him to have them back.

 

“To talk,” she reminded him.

 

“Oh,” he said, “Right, to talk. Yes, I just have to go home and let Grey Wind out.”

 

“Ooh,” she clapped, “Will you bring him over?”

 

Robb agreed and Sam finally said, “Alright all done with the blood. We’ll have the results by the time you come back in two weeks for the next ultrasound. As a reminder that is when you’ll be able to find out the sex of the baby as well. Will you want to know?”

 

“No,” Robb said at the same time she said, “Yes.”

 

“Yes?,” Robb asked her.

 

She shrugged, “Well… I was thinking yes… but um… if you feel strongly then…”

 

In truth she was looking forward to some time to prepare. It would help her, more than nesting, feel _connected to her womb_ if she knew exactly who was in there. She loved her little parasite no matter what, but it was hard to picture them growing up when she didn’t know _who_ would be growing up. She knew that was _horribly_ cis-normative of her, but she couldn’t help it. They were really starting to narrow down some names, she didn’t want to fall in love with one she couldn’t use.

 

“Maybe something else to add to the list of things to discuss,” Sam suggested and she and Robb both nodded sheepishly, feeling like they’d forgotten to do their homework.

 

They looked at one another and he smiled and she couldn’t help but blush.

 

“Robb, do you mind if I have a minute alone with Myrcella?,” Sam asked.

 

Robb’s face fell immediately and they turned in tandem towards the doctor, “Is everything alright?”

 

Myrcella clutched her stomach automatically, as though that would do anything to help the tenuous little life growing inside of her.

 

“Everything’s fine,” Sam promised quickly, “Just a few personal things to discuss with her. Nothing to be concerned about.”

 

Robb nodded and walked out of the room. She rolled down the sleeve of her dress and put her work phone back into her bag.

 

“Gilly tells me Robb is very invested in this baby,” Sam started as soon as the door shut, “He’s told her not to book any international travel once you get into the third trimester.”

 

“Is Gilly supposed to tell you those things?,” she wondered, not that she really cared.

 

She had always just thought that assistants were like therapists and lawyers, unable to disclose what you told them. Perhaps that was just at her grandfather’s company though, where everyone from the CFO to the kid in the mailroom signed iron-clad non-disclosure agreements.

 

“Oh, um,” Sam blushed, “Probably not. Could we - just, well.”

 

“Her secret is safe with me,” she promised.

 

Robb didn’t seem like the type of boss that would care all that much. If she had to guess, he was the kind of boss that didn’t mind seeing his employees change out of the tennis shoes they’d worn on the subway at their desks, encouraged them to take the afternoon off to see their kid in the spelling bee. She imagined that he’d be ruthless when it came to matters of disloyalty, but a bit of a softie otherwise.

 

She had been thinking about it a lot, wondering what kind of father he would be. She imagined he’d be involved, for a time. Until the novel nature wore off.

 

She was preparing herself to be the nurturer and disciplinarian. The one who signed all the permission slips and helped make the solar system out of foam and coat hangers. The one who would enforce curfew and nag them about the state of their room.

 

She’d had nannies for those things, but her child would have her. Always, no matter what.

 

“So, Myrcella,” Sam started, handing her a bunch of papers, “These are some things you can be doing this trimester to help the baby grow and keep your body a… _harmonious living environment -“_

 

“You sound like Robb,” she pointed out.

 

He smiled at her, “I know, and I know you are doing everything you can to take care of your baby… but…,” he trailed off, she raised her eyebrows at him to continue, “I know that you have not always been so careful in taking care of yourself?”

 

She blushed a deep crimson, feeling the shame all the way down to her toes. He posed it as a question, but he had her health care records. He knew.

 

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, “That was a long time ago.”

 

He grimaced and offered gently, “Two years isn’t all that long. It’s an addiction of sorts, Myrcella, which means you have to be vigilant in making sure that you don’t relapse.”

 

Her hand found her bump and she rubbed it softly, “I would never do anything that could hurt the baby.”

 

“I know that,” he assured her, “I really do. But from now on, even after your baby is born and you’ve stopped breast feeding if that is in fact what you intend to do, your baby is still going to dependent on you, _forever_. So anything you do to harm yourself _will_ harm your baby.”

 

She nodded, “I understand,” then looked at him, “I really do. I’ve thought a lot about it, you know, my willingness to eat to take care of my child but not to eat to take care of myself. Wanting the food to stay in my body now rather than expelling it from it. I don’t think my body ever had a purpose before beyond beauty… I know how that sounds -“

 

“It sounds really familiar,” Sam interrupted and she glanced at him. “Myrcella you’re not the first woman I’ve treated that has suffered from some form of an eating disorder, and they all say the same thing, which is what you just said. Remember this feeling, is all I’m asking. And know that your body had purpose beyond this pregnancy. It is the only one you’ll ever have.”

 

It wasn’t the first time she’d heard that. The therapists were _all_ about the connection between you and your body, the way it was a _relationship_ that took _mending_ and _mutual respect._ It had always grated her, but for some reason it didn’t coming from him.

 

“Thank you, Sam,” she said genuinely.

 

He nodded, and then smile, “So you just listen to your body when it has… cravings.”

 

She grinned and hopped off the table, grabbing her back and pushing it over her shoulder, “You mean I _shouldn’t_ feel guilty for having honey-lavender ice cream delivered at 11 o’clock at night?”

 

He chuckled, “I mean you shouldn’t feel bad for any of it.” She went to leave but there was something in the way he was looking at her. He had more that he wanted to say but he wasn’t sure exactly how, that was clear. She put a hand on her hip and he said, “Just… if you do have some… _unconventional_ cravings… don’t feel too bad about… acting on them…”

 

She couldn’t help but be confused. It was exactly what he’d just said but he was saying it now as though there were additional meanings to it.

 

_Unconventional cravings? Like potato chips and peanut butter? Been there, done that, bought more so I could do it again._

 

“Unconventional?,” she repeated.

 

He gave her a small smile, “Just remember it’s _all_ normal.”

 

And with that he opened the door and showed her back out to the waiting room. Robb was already at the front desk confirming their next appointment so she went and joined him.

 

“All good?,” he asked.

 

She nodded, “Yes just… yes everything is fine.”

 

He looked at her like he didn’t quite believe her, which was understandable because she hadn’t been entirely convincing.

 

“So do you want to come with me back to mine, or should I just meet you at yours?,” he asked as he escorted her out.

 

She waved to her driver and said, “I’ll meet you there…,” and started walking towards the car, she threw over her shoulder, “And if you want to drink you’ll have to bring something with you. I donated all of mine to the twenty two year olds who moved in downstairs.”

 

“You’re, like, _so generous,_ ” he told her in a gushing feminine voice and she chuckled. He grinned at her and said, “I’m good without though… solidarity sister!”

 

“Goood _bye_!,” she laughed as she got into the car.

 

The traffic was terrible at this hour so she used it to her advantage and caught up on some emails and calls. When they finally pulled up in front of her apartment building she gathered her things and got out, greeting the night doorman Sid.

 

“Hello, Miss Myrcella,” he said, walking her to the elevator.

 

“Hi Sid,” she smiled, “I’ll have a guest coming by in just a little bit, and he’s bringing a large dog.”

 

“Of course, Miss,” he agreed, “Would you like me to just send them up or shall I call?”

 

She thought about it, “The dog can be sent up immediately. But I could use some advance warning for him.”

 

Sid chuckled and held the elevator door open for her, “Certainly Miss, we can conduct a strip search as well if you require.”

 

She giggled, “I’ll let you know on his way back down.”

 

She rode up to her apartment that covered the entire top floor of the building. It had belonged once to her maternal grandmother and it had been gifted to her in her Will. She had never known her, she had died when her mother and uncles were very young, but it had been gifted to _My first granddaughter._ It came along with an extensive art collection, a gold wristwatch, and a note.

 

_To my darling granddaughter,_

 

_I’m sorry not to have met you, but know that I love you all the same._

 

_I gift you these things, precious girl, as I hope you will come to appreciate beauty for its own sake, the way I have._

 

_I gift you this home, not to use as an excuse for laziness or entitlement, but so that you never feel dependent on anyone for your safety. People are lovely, my dear, but you should never be beholden to any of them._

 

_Use this as an excuse to be brave and bold, and only very occasionally reckless. Find your purpose, and the love of your life - even if that is yourself._

 

_Be well, and clever, and above all else kind. And when you have a child of your own, be their safe haven, as I hope this is yours._

 

_All my love,_

_Joanna_

 

She had been grateful for it many times in her life. At sixteen when she’d moved into it. Seven months ago when she’d moved back into it. Like her grandmother wanted, she never used it as an excuse only as a refuge.

 

She loved this apartment. It had been built in the twenties, and had large wrought-iron windows. It was made for entertaining, with a clear separation between the public and private rooms. It had a library that was always warm no matter the time of year.

 

She had modernised it, updated the appliances, but the feel of the place was exactly the same.

 

She placed her things in the front hall closet and went into her kitchen. She turned on her speakers and let the playlist she’d been listening to on the way to work surround her. She looked in the fridge and pulled out the meatloaf she’d made.

 

She had never had meatloaf in her life before she was pregnant, and now she made it every other week. She had mashed potatoes to go with it and things to make a salad so she set about preparing it all.

 

She figured they could eat in the kitchen, at the breakfast nook. The dining room would feel too formal and the side by side chairs at the counter too intimate.

 

She took out her blue and white porcelain, placing each setting firmly on either side of the table. She then set up about washing the vegetables - thoroughly. She had been warned about unwashed vegetables and stopped just shy of rinsing them with dish soap.

 

She chopped tri-colored carrots and a giant cucumber, grabbed a yellow tomato and a red onion. She wasn’t sure if Robb was one of those people who didn’t like nuts in their salad so she forewent them and mixed a salad dressing of olive oil and balsamic and a selection of herbs.

 

As she was about to dress it her telephone rang.

 

“Hello?,” she asked.

 

“Miss Myrcella I have a… Grey Wind here to see you,” Sid informed her.

 

She smiled and said, “He and his companion can come on up.”

 

She filled a large bowl with water and put it on the floor by the counter. She then went into the bathroom and started fluffing her hair, before she realised that she didn’t care what her hair looked like. Even still she fluffed it once more and then went to get the door when she heard a loud knock.

 

She opened the door and was immediately nearly knocked over.

 

“Oh there’s my boy,” she couldn’t help but coo, “There he issss,” she went on, kneeling down so that she could hug him, “Oh did your Daddy take you to the groomers, you just look _so_ handsome…”

 

Grey Wind licked her face and rubbed his against her, he sniffed her stomach and then started herding her body even though she was stationary.

 

“He talks about you all the time,” Robb informed her.

 

She looked up and smiled shyly, “Is that so?”

 

He nodded and she stood up so that he and Grey Wind could come in. She realised then that he had never been to her apartment before, and she started noticing dust on side tables and errant television chords.

 

“So, _this_ is the dump you want to raise my baby in, hmm?,” he teased her as she shut the door.

 

She felt immediately at ease and teased back, “Well with a new coat of paint I’ll spruce it up real nice.”

 

They walked into the kitchen and she showed Grey Wind the water bowl and asked Robb what he wanted to drink. They settled in at the table and he looked down and grinned.

 

“What?,” she wondered.

 

“Nothing,” he said and then looked up at her, a dimple appearing in his right cheek, “I just didn’t peg you for a meatloaf kind of girl.”

 

“The alien likes meatloaf,” she shrugged then asked, “Is this alright? I have -“

 

“It’s perfect,” he promised, “It smells great, thanks. I usually only get a home cooked meal if I go to Sansa’s or my Mom’s.”

 

“Not one for the kitchen?,” she asked as she cut off a small piece and raised it to her lips.

 

He moved his head from side to side, “Never really tried much. My Mom offered to teach me in high school but I was always busy with sports and homework and -“

“Girls,” she suggested and he blushed.

 

“Yeah, and girls,” he allowed, “Did your Mom teach you?”

 

She felt the familiar knot form in her stomach that she always did when he brought up her family. She had no desire for him to know the Lannisters and no desire for them to know him. She hadn’t even told them she was pregnant.

 

“No,” she shook her head, “My mother is not the cooking kind. I learned when I moved out.”

 

He didn’t have to know that it had been at sixteen, when she grew tired of delivery sushi and smoothies. He didn’t have to know that the fire department had come the first time she tried to make roast chicken or that she used to like to only eat meals she’d prepared herself so she’d know exactly how much salt and fat went into it.

 

But Robb had come from a happy family, the kind that still got together every Sunday for family dinners, so he did not think to ask about any of that. He probably thought she’d moved in when she was twenty-two after college, which was just fine with her.

 

“So,” she said after a while, “You said you had some things you wanted to talk to me about?”

 

He nodded, clearing is plate, “Yeah my parents would like to meet you.”

 

“Won’t that be awkward?,” she wondered.

 

Sansa was one thing. She was so sweet and understanding and they had clicked instantly, but she wasn’t really looking forward to being introduced to his entire family as the knocked up one-night-stand.

 

He shrugged, “Probably. They are always _super_ weird when it comes to people we bring home, like just oddly inviting and full on, but they are so curious about you, and Sansa has told them so much and…well, this is their first time being grandparents and…”

 

“It’s not exactly the way they pictured it?,” she guessed.

 

He sighed, “They just want to know you.”

 

She could understand that logically. She was carrying their grandchild, of course they would want to know who she was. Even still, the whole thing just seemed strange to her.

 

“Okay,” she said though, because the only thing worse than meeting them would be refusing to.

 

He smiled, “Great, they’ve invited you to dinner this Sunday. Okay well they actually invited you three Sundays ago when I told them, and it’s kind of a standing invitation,” her heart seized and he held his hands up, “But let’s just start with this Sunday? Okay? That’s not scary, that’s just… just one dinner you don’t have to cook for yourself, right?”

 

She nodded, forcing herself to breathe normally, “Okay.”

 

“Great,” he exulted.

 

“What else?,” she wondered and he looked at her curiously so she reminded him, “You said _things_.”

 

“Oh right,” he said, shifting nervously in his seat.

 

He cleared his throat and pushed away from the table, making an awful noise on the floor. She cringed and so did he. He was nervous, horribly nervous and for once it wasn’t making her less so. He walked away from the table and reached into the bag he brought with him and pulled out a folder.

 

She had been expecting this since she first told him she was pregnant. It would be papers for her to sign authorising a DNA test. His family, like hers, was incredibly wealthy and he himself was on every 30 under 30 list in the world. Of course he’d want proof, that was only logical, and it was silly to be offended by something logical.

 

He handed her the folder and said gently, “This is just something I want you to consider, we can talk about it before you sign, and I’d recommend showing it to your lawyers for your own peace of mind.”

 

She had no idea why lawyers would have to be involved in something as simple as an authorisation, but she took the folder from him and opened it up. There was a whole stack of papers in the folder and she took them out, fighting the urge to be annoyed. There was no reason to make an epic poem out of the matter.

 

She read the first few sentences once. And then twice, and then a third time. She flipped through the pages and then went back to the first page.

 

“This is a custody agreement,” she said stupidly. He knew that.

 

“I know,” he said gently and then got up and sat in the chair next to hers, placing his hand on hers, “I just want to protect myself.”

 

She snatched her hand away, “But I’m not _asking_ you for anything.”

 

“I know!,” he agreed, and flipped the page and pointed, “It’s what I’m asking you for.”

 

_Any child born to Robb Stark and Myrcella Baratheon will spend two weekends each month in the custody of Robb Stark, except due to concerns including but not limited to, his and the child’s health, the child’s schooling, and/or any unforeseen safety concerns that are deemed reasonable by both parties._

 

_Any child born to Robb Stark and Myrcella Baratheon will spend no less than two nights each week in the custody of Robb Stark, except due to concerns including but not limited to, his and the child’s health, the child’s schooling, and/or any unforeseen safety concerns that are deemed reasonable by both parties._

 

_In the event of any incapacitation of Myrcella Baratheon, Robb Stark will be named the sole guardian of the child and will be authorised to make any decisions he deems in the best interest of the child._

 

“Robb this is binding,” she told him.

 

He rubbed his forehead, “I know, and I’m sorry to ask you to put it in writing but I just can’t risk it. You know, you’re the mother, you hold all of the power here and I know you’re not my biggest fan and I just can’t risk losing my child.”

 

She shook her head, trying to make sense of what he was saying to her. She read the paragraphs over again, wondering if the legalese would help her.

 

“ _If either party does not fulfil these obligations to the best of their ability, they will be held in contempt-_ Robb you are signing your life away!,” she reminded him and shook her head, “I mean, did _your lawyers_ read this?”

 

“They wrote it,” he answered. And his nose scrunched in the way it always did when he was about to make a point, “And my life stopped belonging to me the moment you told me about this baby. All I’m trying to do here is ensure that I get to see my child and take part in raising him or her.”

 

 _Who’s stopping you_?

 

She put the agreement back in the folder and shut it, pushing it away from her.

 

“I’ll think about it,” she told him.

 

She’d give it a month, maybe by then he will have changed his mind. She’d show it to her lawyers, make it a little less stringent. She’d never enforce it, no matter what, but even still she didn’t feel right about trapping him legally.

 

“Thank you,” he nodded.

 

The pair of them shifted awkwardly, neither of them sure where exactly to go from there. Involving lawyers had a way cutting chit chat.

 

“So,” she started once again, “Would you like to see the paint colors?”

 

He nodded, a grateful smile on his face, “Yeah, that’d be great.”

 

They cleared the table and she covered the meatloaf and put it back in the fridge and then she took him back down the hallway to where the bedrooms were.

 

She’d chosen the guest room closest to her bedroom for the nursery, it had a beautiful view and a little window seat, and the best part was it had its own little trash shoot where she could send dirty diapers. She’d brought in an overstuffed cream arm chair and ottoman from the sunken living room and an antique chest that had possets of lavender and jasmine that would be perfect for baby blankets, and had been looking up bookcases and cribs online.

 

She turned on the light and stepped back to allow him inside. The room was large but he looked large in it, and she felt oddly nervous, wondering if he would find it adequate.

 

He turned to her and smiled softly, “It’s perfect, isn’t it?”

 

“Hopefully it will be,” she said and went over to the chest where she’d rested the paint chips. She picked them up and showed them to him, “What do you think?”

 

His fingertips brushed hers as he took it and their eyes flashed to one another’s. She stepped away and he focused back on the colors. He held one swatch to the wall and then another.

 

“I like _Sloe Gin Fizz_ or _Sea Foam,_ ” he informed her. She looked at him and laughed, and he grinned at her, “What? That’s what they are called.”

 

“One sec,” she said and opened the closet door and pulled out the two paint cans she’d brought home and proffered them.

 

He took one, “Sea Foam,” and smiled and held his hand out for the other, “And Sloe Gin Fizz.”

 

“They were my favorites too, so I wanted to see how they looked on the wall,” she explained. He started unbuttoning his shirt. “Um, what are you doing?”

 

He looked her dead in the eyes, “Let’s do it.”

 

She couldn’t help it, she felt it right _there_. She hardly thought that a similar taste in paint colors was reason enough to sleep with someone but she had to admit she wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea either. And her body _definitely wasn’t_.

 

“Umm…,” she said again, stalling.

 

“Do you have something?,” he asked her, looking at her like she was a little crazy.

 

_Why would we need a condom? I’m already pregnant._

 

“Something?,” she asked.

 

“Yeah,” he said, taking off his button down and revealing a white undershirt, “Brushes and one of those little bins?”

 

_You, Myrcella Baratheon, are an idiot._

 

She nodded quickly, turning around so that he wouldn’t see her red face. She went back to the closet and grabbed out the materials she’d bought along with the paint.

 

“Which one do you want to start with?,” she asked.

 

He took the materials from her and gestured to the chair, “Why don’t you sit down?,” he suggested, gripping her shoulder briefly. She fought the urge to lick her lips and he grinned down at her as though he knew, his voice dropping an octave, “After all we don’t want to mess that pretty dress up, do we?”

 

She shook her head dumbly and took the chance to get away from him. She had no idea what had come over her body, but it was like she was _hungry_ for him, like she _needed_ him, like she was - _unconventional cravings._

 

 _Damn you, Sam Tarly._ She suspected he was not above meddling and she had felt his eyes on her and Robb while he was taking her blood.

 

She took a deep breath and crossed her ankles primly. She wasn’t going to _give into_ these cravings, that was _out of the question._ No, she just had to wait for them to pass. _Maybe I should grab some salsa…_ but something told her that not even the hottest salsa would be satisfying in that moment.

 

So instead she watched as Robb gripped one of the small cans and opened it, the muscles in his forearms flexed. _How am I attracted to a forearm?_

 

He dipped one of the paint brushes in gingerly and she tried not to think of what else those fingers did gingerly. He turned his back to her and raised the brush to the wall, and she could see all the muscles in his back, his t shirt lifting up to reveal a sliver of skin.

 

_Stop lusting after your baby daddy!_

 

It had overtaken her so quickly she couldn’t quite understand it. She had never really felt this before. Even the night they spent together, she had wanted him, there was no doubt about it, and the sex had been amazing - the best she’d ever had, the feel of his hands and his body and _stop it!_ But even still it was nothing compared to what she was feeling now, it was like her entire body was aching for him, even her fucking womb.

 

_You listen here, alien, stop trying to make me and your Daddy get together. It isn’t going to happen. This is not the parent trap._

 

He finished painting a small patch and stepped away.

 

He looked back at her and she forced a nearly manic smile onto her face. He fixed her with a confused look and asked, “You like that?”

 

_Oh now he is quoting himself from that night? Is the universe conspiring against me?_

 

She nodded, making an _mmhm_ noise that sounded more like a squeal and he looked from her back to the patch and nodded. He then bent over, giving her a perfect voice of his tight ass _seriously what is the matter with you?_ and grabbed the other paint can. He repeated it, painting a similarly sized patch next to the original and then set the can down on the floor.

 

He came to stand behind her chair and she was sitting ramrod straight, the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

 

“Which one do you like?,” he asked her.

 

She focused her attention on the paint samples. They were both pretty, the first a bit darker, the second a bit greyer.

 

“I think I like the second one,” she mused.

 

All of a sudden she felt his cheek nearly touching hers as he bent over the back of the chair, looking at it from her angle, “Yeah, it’s a bit calmer, right?”

 

 _“Mmmhm,”_ she said again.

 

“Are you alright?,” he asked, standing up again, but then his hands were on her shoulders. “Gods Myrcella your strung tighter than a bow,” he said, his thumb working a knot in her upper back.

 

“ _Oh gods,_ ” she all but whispered, her head falling against the back of the chair.

 

“I thought you said you weren’t achy,” he said softly, his other hand moving in tandem with the first, until her body turned to molasses and she slumped against his hands and the chair.

 

“I um… I’m…,” she tried to speak but her mouth was dry. She all but moaned as he moved his fingers up her neck, “Just stressed I guess.”

 

“We can’t have that,” he chided gently, continuing his ministrations.

 

She wanted to tell him to stop, but he would if she asked him to and she really didn’t want that. Her entire body responded to him, and she clenched her thighs together.

 

If he noticed he didn’t say, because he continued on like everything was normal, “So what else will go in this room?”

 

It helped to think about something else so she said, “I’m not sure, I haven’t really found a crib yet. I don’t know why but I don’t really want a white one and they all seem to be…”

 

His hands left her and she whimpered, but then he returned one and held his phone in front of her face. He went into his pictures and she saw snapshots of him and Sansa, Grey Wind and Lady cuddling, a picture of him another handsome guy, and then he scrolled up and selected the picture he obviously wanted to show her.

 

“What about something like that?,” he asked.

 

It was a beautiful crib made of a very pretty almost grey wood. It seemed sturdy without being bulky and while it had slats like most did, the upper band had something carved into it.

 

She took the phone from him and zoomed in and saw that the cutouts were in the shapes of animals. Wolves and fish and lions and stags.

 

“It’s so beautiful,” she told him honestly, “Where did you find this?”

 

“I made it,” he said and she looked up at him, “With my Dad. Just finished the other night.”

 

“You made this?,” she couldn’t quite believe, looking back at the picture. She had known it had to be crafted by hand but, not _his_ hands. _Those things are multi-talented_. “It’s exquisite, Robb, really.”

 

He stepped away from her and walked to one corner, away from the windows, “I think it’d look good here, that way when you come in at night you won’t be stepping over toys or anything.” She looked at him dumbly and his scratched his cheek, “Well I mean, only if you want it. I can always use it at my apartment if you had your eye on something else.”

 

“You’d let me keep it?,” she asked him.

 

“Of course I would, I made it for you,” he told her.

 

She would blame it on the hormones later on, but it was pure gratitude when she rushed out of the chair and wrapped her arms around his neck. He nearly stumbled back against the force of her hug but he steadied himself and her and wrapped his arms around her too.

 

She breathed in his peculiar smell, “Thank you, I love it.”

 

“I’m glad,” he told her.

 

The time had run up on the hug being a thank you one, but neither of them let go, and his large, gentle, talented hands rubbed her back and she let them.

 

“You don’t make bookcases, do you?,” she asked innocently.

 

He chuckled and it vibrated from his chest into hers, and he said into her hair, “I’ll start working on it this weekend.”

 

She smiled and squeezed him tighter. It was nice, when he was like this it was easy to forget how handsome he was. He was trying so hard, and maybe it wouldn’t last forever but he wanted to be here for her, for them now. And it felt good to let him.

 

“I’ll sign the papers, if you’re sure,” she told him.

 

She felt more than heard his sigh of relief and his hand stroked her hair, “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

 

She moved out of his embrace and looked up at him. He had a hint of stubble on his cheeks and his cheeks showed the hint of a blush, and every part of her wanted him in that moment.

 

But she enough to know that the moment would pass, so she stepped away.

 

“Are you alright?,” he asked in concern.

 

“Yeah I just need…,” she started and he raised his brows and if she wasn’t mistaken his breath caught and released in a big gust when she lied, “Some honey-lavender ice cream.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Myrcella? Oh she thirsty


	5. The Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **this chapter may be triggering for some**

 

“So tomorrow, huh?,” Theon asked as they brought their beers back to their table.

 

It was Saturday afternoon and rugby was on, it was a preseason game but that didn’t matter to them, not when they’d left their work phones at home and were at their favorite pub. Robb sat down and pulled his personal phone out of his pocket, checking in vain for a response to the text message he’d sent almost three hours earlier.

 

Robb nodded, “Hypothetically.”

 

“Hypothetically?,” Theon repeated.

 

He had no notifications and he placed his phone down in frustration, taking a sip of his beer. It tasted sour and he glanced at the glass like it had betrayed him. The truth was though that he hadn’t been drinking very much over the past month or so and he’d lost a bit of his taste for it.

 

“Yeah I - she _said_ she would come but I texted her a few hours ago and she hasn’t texted me back,” he complained.

 

Theon snickered, “Dude what is this _high school_? She hasn’t texted you back? You need to grow a pair.”

 

“This advice coming from the guy who showed up at _my_ door every night for the first month after you’d gotten together with Sansa hoping she’d be there,” Robb reminded him.

 

Theon blushed and shook his head, “Yeah well I was terrified she was going to change her mind.” Robb made a gesture as if to say _see?_ and Theon nodded reluctantly, “Fine, but it’s only been a few hours. She’s probably just at yoga or something.”

 

Robb fought the urge to groan, imagining Myrcella in athletic gear… _bending_. He actively spent time trying _not_ to imagine such things. It was horribly inconvenient being attracted to the woman who was carrying his child. Every time he saw her though he thought about the night they’d met, the feel of her body on top of his, surrounding his, her fingernails digging into his back, her lips around his -

 

“Stop it,” Theon chided.

 

Robb cleared his throat, “Sorry.”

 

Theon smiled and shook his head, “I mean, I get it. She was over at Sansa’s the other night and she is… something else but -“

 

“She was at Sansa’s the other night?,” Robb interrupted.

 

Theon nodded, sipping his beer, “Yeah they’ve started watching some show together. Didn’t they tell you?”

 

“No!,” Robb exclaimed, “That is so unfair.”

 

“Dude, no,” Theon shook his head, “The show is _terrible._ It’s all _is Sadie going to choose Richard or Damien_ and - I mean I _personally_ think she should go with Damien, Richard is just too fresh from his break-up with Lily, you know but -“

 

“You watch it too?!,” Robb wondered.

 

Theon shrugged, “Well I was dropping something off for Sansa the week before and they asked me to stay and wellMyrcellareallylikesmyinsights…”

 

Betrayal, it appeared, came in all forms.

 

He had known that Sansa and Myrcella had become fast friends. When he’d been at Sansa’s the night before she’d been gushing about his baby mama but for some reason the idea that they had a standing date and that Theon was involved in it too upset him. It seemed unfair that everyone got to spend time with her except for him.

 

He could watch some stupid show with them. And not for nothing but he actually thought Richard and Sadie were far better suited than her and Damien but _no one asked him_.

 

His phone buzzed and he grabbed it immediately.

 

Myrcella: _Hey sorry, I was at yoga. I’m at the farmer’s market now, what are your mom’s favorite flowers?_

 

He felt Theon’s eyes on him so he put the phone down. He’d just text her later, no big deal. If _she_ could wait three hours to text him back then he could wait three - no _four -_ to text her back. She could go _back_ to the farmer’s market for all he -

 

He picked up his phone, ignoring Theon who was outwardly laughing at him at this point.

 

Robb: _She doesn’t like flowers, do they have any lavender plants though?_

 

He waited, his heart thudding when he saw the ellipses appear.

 

Myrcella: _Yes! Grabbing some now. And Sansa told me your Dad drinks whiskey, what kind?_

 

Robb typed back, _Don’t get him anything._

 

Myrcella: _He made me a CRIB_

 

Robb: _I mean, I did most of the work, he just supervised_

 

Myrcella: _Fine I’ll get you a bottle too, now what kind? Spill, Stark._

 

He grinned like a fool and sent back the name of his Dad’s favorite maker. He put his phone down, checking every so often for a text from her but trying to focus on the game.

 

His phone buzzed and he couldn’t help but snatch it and read.

 

Myrcella: _Oh and to answer your question, a ride out to Winterfell would be great if it isn’t too much trouble._

 

“Yes!,” Robb pumped his fist into the air.

 

Theon looked incredulously at him, “Dude, King’s Landing just scored.”

 

“Oh, right,” he blushed, setting his phone down as inconspicuously as possible. Theon glanced at it and shook his head. “What?”

 

Theon gestured to the phone, “Could you want her _more?_ ”

 

“I don’t,” Robb argued and Theon fixed him with a look, “I _don’t_.”

 

“Mmmhm,” Theon noised in an obnoxiously superior tone, “Of course you don’t.”

 

“I don’t!,” Robb started, “I really-,” his phone buzzed and he immediately picked it up. It was his Mom, asking him if Myrcella was allergic to anything, he put it down in annoyance and looked back at Theon. “Shut up.”

 

Theon shrugged and said, “Just watching the game…”

 

*

 

He’d woken at five. At six when it became clear that he would not be able to fall back asleep he rose and dressed and took Grey Wind on a run. They ran longer than their usual path, closer to four miles, and both of them were panting by the time they were through.

 

He had no desire to go back to his apartment, knowing that nothing waited for him there except a few dirty dishes and endless hours of waiting. Instead, he slowed them to a walk and they moved through the old part of town, past the flower market where shopkeepers set out their best roses and peonies, looking at what their neighbor was charging for them and then marking their own prices at fifty cents less.

 

One vendor had a bouquet of Baby’s Breath so he paid the six dollars for it, planning to bring it to Sansa on his way home. He had no idea why she adored the simple flower so much but there were bouquets of them all over her apartment.

 

They continued walking down the cobble stone streets towards his favorite coffee shop. They only used coffee beans from Volantis and it was rich and strong and the owner loved Grey Wind so she always brought a bowl of water for him.

 

He went inside and ordered his cafe au lait and grabbed a paper and took it back outside. He loved late summer in the north, when the mornings and evenings were cool and the days were warm. All the kids trying to finish up their summer reading and buying new notebooks and pens.

 

He thought about a little girl with a unicorn backpack, golden hair and blue eyes. Or a little boy using a big crayon to write his name for the first time. He could even see the shaky little letters.

 

He pulled out his phone as he sipped his coffee.

 

_What about Tom, or Tommy?_

 

To his surprise he saw the typing bubble appear almost immediately. But then it disappeared. And then it reappeared. And then it disappeared again.

 

He waited and waited, draining his coffee. His leg started shaking and he wasn’t sure if it was due to the caffeine or the anticipation.

 

So it was probably why he jumped when he heard a female voice ask, “Robb?”

 

He looked up into a pretty pair of brown eyes, “Roslin, hey.”

 

Those eyes turned very angry, “Roslin _hey_? Are you kidding me? You ghosted me, you asshole!”

 

He was about to defend himself, but when he thought about it, he _had_ ghosted her. They hadn’t been official or exclusive but they had been dating and then he’d just fallen off the map. He’d hardly even thought of her since the night Myrcella came to tell him she was pregnant. In truth, he’d hardly thought of her before then either.

 

No wonder Myrcella didn’t trust him.

 

It occurred to him that it made it all the worse that while Roslin was hurt and right in front of him his thoughts were on Myrcella and how his actions affected her opinion of him.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said without excuse. “I did, and I’m sorry.”

 

Her eyes smarted and something in his stomach twisted and she asked, “Why?”

 

 _I’ve had a lot going on_ , he might have said in the past. In this case it was actually true. Even still he knew she’d have heard it from every other guy and he didn’t want to be that way anymore.

 

“Honestly… I found out I’m going to be a father and everything else just kind of went out the window,” he told her and her mouth dropped, he nodded. But then he realized that was the easy way out, and it might leave her clinging to hope that if that _weren’t_ the case that would be together, and it might confuse his actions and make her think that was the way someone treated you when they cared about you, and he didn’t want. So he stood up and said, “Yeah but uh, listen Roslin, regardless of that I just don’t think you and I long term is the right thing for either of us… I’m sorry I didn’t just tell you that.”

 

She shifted from one foot to another and he wasn’t sure if he had made the right decision. Maybe she wanted to cling to that, maybe that was better for her.

 

Finally she rolled her eyes and said, “Whatever, good luck and everything.”

 

“Yeah, you too,” he nodded, meaning it more than she had.

 

She walked away and he sat down and saw Grey Wind looking at him.

 

“Stop judging me, you never liked her,” he scolded.

 

Grey Wind looked up at him like _Yeah well neither did you, at least I didn’t sleep with her_ and Robb ignored his deeply judgmental dog and took a sip of his coffee.

 

The truth was he had never really liked her. He had never really _liked_ anyone. He’d had crushes before, and been fond of people, but he’d never really had that can’t-wait-to-see-them-jump-every time-his-phone-buzzed sort of thing. Maybe there was something wrong -

 

His phone buzzed and he jumped and grabbed it quickly.

 

 

Myrcella: _I can’t go to your family’s today._

 

His stomach plummeted. He was supposed to pick her up in just a few hours because Sunday dinners were really Sunday lunch and often gave way to early evening card games and got everyone home and tucked into bed in time to prepare themselves for the week ahead. He was supposed to see her in just a few hours and it felt like the wind had been kicked out of him.

 

He started typing _You promised_ but then that seemed lame so he deleted it. He then started typing _Why?_ and then deleted that as well.

 

Robb: _Is everything okay?_

 

Her typing bubbles appeared and then disappeared and repeated this three or four times. He was now officially nervous which was not helped when she responded with _I’m not feeling well._

 

He finished off his coffee and he and Grey Wind continued down the road. He could have just left it alone, telling her to feel better, but there was something nagging at him in the back of his mind that he couldn’t shake. A preternatural need to go to her.

 

 _It’s the baby_ , he told himself, _I need to make sure everything is okay with the baby._

 

Even he didn’t believe that entirely though. He was concerned for the baby, of course, but he was concerned for the woman carrying it as well.

 

He walked down a side street to a corner deli and asked for a large container of their chicken soup and some oyster crackers. The burly guy behind the counter gave him an odd look, which was fair because it was hardly 8 am but he did as he asked. Robb paid and took his parcels and continued walking through the old part of town another mile or so until he got to the large grand apartment buildings.

 

He knew it was a little crazy to show up unannounced but he _felt_ a little crazy and didn’t have the energy or the foresight to think it through.

 

He walked into the lobby and was about to turn to the doorman so that he could call up to her apartment when all of a sudden the elevator doors opened and _she_ stepped out. She was dressed in skin tight black yoga pants and sneakers, a black zip up on top and her hair in a perky ponytail, a pair of large dark sunglasses covering her eyes.

 

His first thought was to tell her that she certainly didn’t _look_ like she was unwell but as she got closer, having not yet seen him, he realized that wasn’t true. She looked beautiful, of course, but her skin looked pale and her lips were chapped, and she was holding her stomach like something was _wrong_.

 

He was so focused on her that he forgot about Grey Wind, but his dog took off for her immediately, likely as concerned as he was.

 

“Grey Wind?,” she asked, kneeling down and taking hold of his leash as though he might have run all the way there on his own. Which admittedly was not all that unlikely at this point. “What are you doing -,” she asked him and then looked up and saw Robb standing there stupidly with a bouquet of baby’s breath and a random bag.

 

“What’s wrong?,” Robb asked, stepping forward.

 

Myrcella stepped back, and whether she meant to tug Grey Wind with her he wasn’t sure.

 

“What are you doing here?,” she asked and her voice sounded hoarse, as though she had a sore throat.

 

“I was worried,” he told her.

 

“You can’t just come here,” she practically spat at him, and he flinched back.

 

He was used to her rolling her eyes at him, demurring from him, teasing him, chiding him, backing away from him, but she had never spoken to him with such venom in her voice. Before that moment if someone had asked him, he would have told him she wasn’t even capable of sounding like that.

 

It terrified him, not wanting to fathom what kind of pain she must be in to sound like that.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to step forward again and she stepped back.

 

“Miss Myrcella, is there a problem here?,” the doorman he remembered meeting the last time he’d been here stepped forward and asked.

 

She turned to him and straightened her posture, “No, Sid, thank you, everything’s fine.” Then she turned to him and said with a sigh, “You had better come upstairs.”

 

He couldn’t quite understand the turn of events, though he had previously thought that he was used to her somewhat mercurial nature. Even still there was nothing really to do except follow her and Grey Wind onto the elevator. Grey Wind was glued to her side, which would have annoyed Robb if he weren’t so worried.

 

They were silent in the elevator, the attendant was eyeing him carefully, he’d been on duty when he’d been here the other night and he clearly was curious who exactly he was to the mysterious, beautiful occupant of the Penthouse.

 

Myrcella opened her door and let go of Grey Wind’s leash, letting him in, and then held open the door and stood there so Robb walked in as well. She closed the door behind them and then walked past him towards the kitchen so he followed, and when he went in there she was filling a bowl of water.

 

“He just had something to drink,” he told her, and she glanced at him. Or rather, she turned towards him, her sunglasses were so opaque that he couldn’t say for sure she was actually looking at him. Even still it was a withering stare. “But he’s always thirsty, thanks.”

 

She nodded and placed the bowl of water down. She didn’t come back up right away and he walked around the island curiously. He found her with Grey Wind’s head resting on her shoulder, leaning on her in that way that told you he was hugging you. She had her arms around him, her cheek resting against him, and Robb knew his dog wouldn’t move a muscle for the rest of the day if she stayed like that.

 

“Myrcella,” he said as gently as he was able.

 

He would have crouched down and held her too if he didn’t think she’d flinch out of his arms. He was relieved, but at this point only slightly, to see that whatever was wrong didn’t seem to be physical, though she was quite obviously in pain.

 

He could see her squeeze Grey Wind before standing up and asking him, “Tea?”

 

He shook his head so she gestured towards one of the public sitting rooms and he walked in ahead of her and sat down on one of the couches. To his surprise it was comfortable, it hadn’t looked like it would be, even still his body was tense, prepared for action, something not all that dissimilar to adrenaline coursing through his veins at the speed of light.

 

She took a seat on the chair closest to him and in a move that surprised no one, Grey Wind curled up at her feet.

 

“I’m sorry for how I acted downstairs,” she said. He didn’t respond because he knew that the word _but_ was coming so the apology meant nothing. In the next breath she told him, “But I need you to respect my boundaries.”

 

It was a fair amendment. In the grand scheme of things, they didn’t know one another very well, and though they were making strides, they were all but strangers. It was inappropriate to show up unexpected.

 

All that being said, he’d been scared out of his mind, and he was tired of walking on egg shells around her so he said, “Then you need to respect that I’m _not_ here all the time, that I have no idea what’s going on and that these… _snippets_ you give me is not sufficient when you are carrying my child. What affects _you_ affects _me_ , and I… I’m sorry, and I will make an effort to be more sensitive to your boundaries, I only ask that you are sensitive to the fact that I am a concerned father and likely will be for the rest of our lives if the gods are just.”

 

She was still as a statue but she said, “You’re right. I’m sorry, I can’t imagine what this must be like for you -to be completely honest I haven’t tried. _Concerned fathers_ are not something I’m used to.”

 

He would never say it, he hated to even think it, but that was not at all surprising. She had _Daddy Issues_ written all over her. Not in the way that Roslin did. Roslin’s had made her needy, while Myrcella’s had turned her nearly dogmatically independent.

 

“I’m sorry for that,” he told her honestly. It was terrible, unbelievable, really. How could any man not want her for a daughter? She was viciously intelligent, beautiful, elegant, and had the ability to be exceedingly kind. He wondered what kind of woman she might be if she’d had a loving father. A sight to behold to be sure, even more so than she already was. “But something tells me that isn’t what went wrong this morning. Would you… cou- I’d like not to upset you in the future, and knowing a bit more about you would make that easier.”

 

She nodded and raised her hands to her glasses and removed them. For a single infuriating second he thought that someone had beaten her. Her eyes were red and the skin around them was pink and swollen. It was a second punch to the gut when he realized it was from crying.

 

“Myrcella,” he all but whispered.

 

“Forgive me,” she pleaded delicately, “I’m not used to telling this story.” He nodded so she went on, “My family as you might have guessed is not like yours, no weekly dinners or anything of the kind.”

 

She paused so he acknowledged, “I had…guessed that.”

 

She gave a single nod of her head and went on, “I moved into this apartment the week after my sixteenth birthday. The day after my little brother’s funeral.”

 

“Myrcella,” he said uselessly.

 

Her lips started to quiver and her fingers were fidgeting, her back hunched to what had to be an uncomfortable degree as though she were trying to make herself small enough to fit in a jewelry box.

 

“He…,” she started and then broke into a silent sob, her hand covering her mouth. He watched her breathe deeply and then compose herself, it was an incredible thing to see. “He was very sweet, and shy and… terribly lonely.” _No, no. No._ “My father had left a few months earlier, he didn’t even wait until me and -until we came home from school, just left a single note on the dining room table. His cell phone disconnected, emails bounced back. I didn’t bother looking much more than that. Joffrey - my older brother, didn’t much care. He’d had the worst relationship with him of all of us. My father would… well Joffrey received much of his temper. He’s the most like my mother, you see. But anyway he, my younger brother, was devastated. I couldn’t understand why, he had never been much of a father, though I probably cared more than I realized. I just had a different way of dealing with it. Partying and traveling - I was never home. When I was, I tried. I.. not enough though. I spoke to my mother, to my grandfather, I told him he needed help. I should’ve forced the issue, but I was never home long enough to do so. I brought him back little gifts from each city I travelled to, sent him postcards even though I arrived home before they got to him. Not enough. My mother and grandfather didn’t want to hear it, you know, any sign of weakness was unsuitable. So they ignored it, the way they did everything else inconvenient.”

 

He knew what was coming and yet he was unprepared for it still.

 

“My boyfriend at the time had taken me away for my birthday, I’d really had just the loveliest time, and I’d brought home lots of presents to share so I went up to his room and knocked on the door. There was no answer but s-sometimeshewouldlistentomusicwithhisearphonesonsoIdidnt’thinkand - well,” she stopped and a tear ran down her cheek, “He’d been hanging there since that morning. No one had bothered to check on him.”

 

He was going to be sick. The idea of finding one of his siblings - the idea that she had found one of hers - no wonder, no it wasn’t fair.

 

But she wasn’t finished. And though he knew, he had to ask.

 

“What was his name?”

 

“Tommen,” she all but whispered, a stream of fresh tears falling from her eyes, “But I called him -“

 

“Tommy,” he finished for her.

 

She stood up and walked away, shaking her head, “I… I should… do it, I know I should. It’s the thought that’s been nagging at me every time I feel like it’s a boy. You know but _look_ at me, I can’t even say his name without crying.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “If I’d known…”

 

He was certain now more than ever that if it was a boy Tommen would be his name. It had felt right the moment he’d pictured it, and though he didn’t believe in divine intervention he could not help but feel like he’d been meant to. It would be difficult, of course it would, of course. But there was no better way to honor someone you had loved.

 

Even still, had he known he would not have broached the subject so casually, or perhaps at all at this stage.

 

Not until she was ready, until they were closer, until she trusted him enough to believe that he might actually be right. Until she depended on him in a way that her life had taught her not to depend on anyone.

 

“How could you?,” she asked but it wasn’t an accusation, it was said in defeat. “I know it’s frustrating, but you have to understand…”

 

“I do -,” he started but her face told him that he didn’t.

 

“He wasn’t even at the funeral,” she told him, shook her head, her voice hollow, “Never called. And before you ask if he knew, it was in all of the papers from here to Dorne. Even across the Narrow Sea. No one could resist a Lannister scandal.”

 

He could see her instantly at sixteen. A black dress, a single strand of pearls around her slender neck, no shoulder to cry on, a receiving line full of people who were offering their condolences and all the while wondering if she’d be next. The reporters hovering outside of her school, concerned parents complaining about all the attention _that Baratheon girl_ was bringing to it.

 

No wonder she held him at arm’s length. She was wondering when he was going to bolt.

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he told her and she opened her mouth but she had to know that, “I’m not your father, Myrcella. Please, please just… come meet my family and you’ll get it, you’ll see, you’ll understand that I am _not_ going to do that - I’m not going to leave you-I mean, I’m not going to leave you alone with our child. I’m not going to abandon him.”

 

_Or you._

 

“I want to believe that,” Myrcella nodded and then shook her head, “I do, I believe that you don’t _want_ to, that your intentions are good.”

 

It was enough, for now. It wouldn’t be for long, but for now with the weight of the truth between them, it was enough just to know that she knew he was better than her father, and that she might give him time to show her just how much better he really could be.

 

So he nodded, and though it went without saying, he told her, “It wasn’t your fault, you know. You were sixteen, you’d just been abandoned by a parent, and you weren’t old enough to be one yourself.”

 

He could tell that she didn’t believe him, but she nodded and then gave a weak smile, “I’m not sure I feel old enough to be a parent now.”

 

He laughed softly, “Yeah I know what you mean. Some days I feel like a child stuck in a man’s body. Or at least that’s what Sansa tells me I am.”

 

He thought she might smile but she didn’t, she merely said, “You’re doing a lot better than you think.”

 

“As are you.”

 

She let out a deep breath and looked at him nervously, “If the offer is still there, it might be nice to see what a real family looks like.”

 

He smiled in relief and said, “Why don’t you take a nice hot shower - _by the gods I sound just like my Mom_ ,” he groaned and to his surprise she laughed, “And I’ll go get the car and pick you up. We’ll go out there early, get you out of the city and into the fresh air.”

 

She smiled at that and nodded, “If you’re sure they won’t mind.”

 

He chuckled, thinking of how desperate his parents were to meet her and shook his head, “No, uh, they definitely won’t mind.”

 

“Okay,” she agreed and he turned to leave before she could change her mind but she went on, “Oh and Robb-“

 

“Yes, Myrcella,” he said, still walking towards the door, “Grey Wind can stay with you.”


	6. Sympathy Symptoms

 

She turned the water so hot it nearly burned the skin, and stepped under the shower head and let it pour down on her. Her golden hair was coated almost instantly, turning the color of damp sand and clinging to her head as she closed her eyes and allowed the warmth to surround her. She didn’t move for sometime, her limbs feeling heavy the way she used to feel after sessions with the only therapist she’d ever cared for, the weight of her own emotions bearing down on her. She turned and lifted her hair, letting the water hit her back and loosen the muscles before squirting some shampoo into her palm and massaging it into her scalp.

 

Grey Wind was lying in the bathroom outside the shower waiting patiently for her. He’d shown no signs of worry when Robb had left him with her, following behind her dutifully as she made her way through the apartment. She felt better knowing that he was there, just as she’d felt better with his big fluffy head on her shoulder, her heart leveling to a stubborn _thud, thud, thud_.

 

She rinsed the shampoo from her hair and used some conditioner on the ends, using her loofah to scrub her body until her skin had turned a nearly angry red. When she was done and the suds were pooling at her feet she remained in the shower, gathering the strength to prepare for the day.

 

Eventually she turned off the faucet and grabbed one of the large fluffy towels that sat on the bench beside the shower. She wrapped it around her hair and then took another and pulled it against her body and padded into her bedroom.

 

She sat on her bed and looked at her legs. Her knees were touching but her thighs were not. Slender still, even as her stomach and her ass expanded at a somewhat alarming rate.

 

She used to be able to want to fit her fist through her thigh gap, and now all she wanted was her body to give her baby all of the nutrients that it could, so that he or she would be healthy and strong.

 

_I grew up enough to understand what really matters._

 

Tommen never would. He’d never get the chance to hold a child of his own, not when he had died no more than a child himself.

 

She didn’t allow herself to think about it often, burying it down the way she did so many other things until something made her think of him. Like a sailboat in the distance, or pink frosted donuts, or his name.

 

 _Poor Robb_ , she thought as she rose and went to her closet. Sansa had told her that Stark family gatherings were very casual so she pulled out a pair of dark jeans and a new light pink wrap top she’d gotten from a maternity company she’d found recently. She grabbed a dove grey cashmere cardigan and slipped on a pair of ballet flats. She went to her vanity and pulled on her grandmother’s wrist watch and a pair of pearl earrings and then sat down and blowdried her hair until it felt in soft curls around her face. She examined her face and found it still puffy, so she put a cooling creme on and then some concealer around her eyes and swiped on some tinted chapstick.

 

She looked in the mirror and saw Grey Wind sitting at her side and looking too.

 

“What do you think?,” she asked him and he cocked his head to the side. “Will they like me?”

 

He didn’t answer he just started a bit in a way that almost looked like he was nodding. She shook her head, _pregnancy has made you crazy_ , and pat his head and stood up. She brushed her teeth and swiped on deodorant and spritzed a bit of perfume on.

 

She looked in the mirror and forced a smile onto her face. She didn’t last five seconds before it started to droop. She tried again. This time she lasted eight. She forced her placid, client facing expression and wondered if her eyes had always looked so haunted.

 

Thankfully her phone rang and she went to pick it up without having to think more on that.

 

“Hi Sid, is he here?,” she asked, having seen that it was the front desk calling.

 

“Yes, Miss Myrcella,” Sid told her, “Shall I send him up?”

 

“No need,” she told him, “I’ll come down.”

 

With that she hung up and grabbed her handbag and walked back through her apartment. She grabbed her cell phone and Grey Wind’s leash and hooked it onto his collar before grabbing the bag that held the lavender plant and the bottle of whiskey for Mr. Stark heading out and stepping onto the elevator.

 

The attendant looked at her curiously and she took her sunglasses out of her bag and put them on.

 

The elevator doors opened and Robb was standing there in khakis and a navy blue t shirt, a pair of sunglasses perched on his damp hair. It was a little long and curled at the ends and the t shirt brought out his eyes and she hated that her heart beat just a little faster at the sight of him.

 

The cravings had not subsided, and she’d made more use of her vibrator over the past few days than she had over the past few months. She thought of celebrities she liked, faceless muscled gods. But no matter what, her mind always drifted to him. It was more than a little infuriating.

 

His face didn’t light up when he saw her the way that it normally did. He was looking at her with concern, and she pushed her sunglasses up so that he could see she hadn’t been crying anymore. When she did his smile overtook his face and her heart lurched and then something else _inside_ of her did.

 

“Oh my,” she stopped, clutching her stomach.

 

“Myrcella?,” Robb asked, stepping forward and then stopped himself.

 

He was trying to respect her boundaries, she realized. She was not used to voicing her needs and even less familiar with someone listening to them. It meant more than she could articulate and then she felt _it_ happen again and she couldn’t articulate anything.

 

So she stepped forward and grabbed his hand. His fingers interlaced with hers as though by accident and she pulled his palm to her stomach and covered it with her own.

 

“M-“

 

“Wait,” she told him quietly.

 

Nothing happened and she looked up at him. He was looking at her curiously and she was about to let his hand drop when he asked, “Is everything okay?”

 

And then as though the little alien had heard him, she felt a small but obvious _something_ again.

 

Robb’s eyes filled immediately and he looked down at her in wonder, “Has this -“

 

“No,” she shook her head, “No, never.”

 

She’d read that for first time mothers it often wasn’t until the fifth month that they could feel their baby kick, but that was what this was. She could feel it.

 

Her eyes smarted and she gripped Robb’s hand and he let out a broken laugh and their baby kicked again. Now they both laughed and when he pulled her by the back of her head and pressed a kiss to her forehead it didn’t feel presumptuous or pushy, just an exact mirror of her own joy.

 

“I’m so happy I didn’t miss this,” he told her.

 

“Me too,” she agreed, her eyes meeting his. His pupils dilated as he looked down at her and his lips were parted slightly and she could still remember the feel of them against hers. So she asked, “Should we go?”

 

He blinked a few times and nodded, “Yeah, come on um… car’s out front.”

 

Robb let go of her hand and took the bag from her other one and she followed him out to the his SUV. He put the bag in the back and she opened the back door for Grey Wind.

 

He came back around and took the leash gently from her hand and dropped it, and addressed his dog directly, “Go on.” Grey Wind looked at him and Robb slapped his hand on the leather seat, “Come on, up.” Grey Wind sat down on his haunches. Robb glanced at her and she tried not to smile but it was kind of hard not to and Robb looked back at Grey Wind and said more sternly, “Grey Wind. Up.”

 

Still, to no effect. Robb sighed and mumbled something about Grey Wind being a faker and lifted Grey Wind until he was standing.

 

“Put your paw up,” Robb ordered. Grey Wind lifted his front paw daintily and then dropped it. “By the gods,” Robb sighed and lifted his front paws up and then said to her, “This won’t be pretty,” and then grabbed Grey Wind around his waist and hoisted him up, his butt nearly going into Robb’s face before he got him in the seat.

 

Once in there Grey Wind plopped down, a smile on his fluffy face.

 

She didn’t realize she was laughing until Robb turned to her and smiled as he shut the door. He opened the one to the passenger seat and teased, “Do you need help too?”

 

She should tell him not to be fresh but she merely shrugged and said, “In a couple of months I just might.”

 

He chuckled as she got in and shut the door behind her. She fastened her seatbelt as he ran around the other side and hopped in and started up the car. He pulled away from the curb wordlessly and took them onto the main street. Stores were just starting to open and people were out walking their dogs. Grey Wind barked at a Rottweiler and Robb told him to pipe down.

 

“Robb,” she said.

 

“Myrcella,” he answered.

 

“Thank you,” she said, pulling her cardigan snugly around her, her legs crossed as she turned towards him. He glanced at her briefly and she went on, “For being so kind. About everything. That isn’t an easy story for me to tell.”

 

His jaw muscle clenched, “Thank you for trusting me with it.”

 

She turned on the radio and country immediately came blaring out.

 

“Oh Robb _no_ ,” she said in horror.

 

He blushed and said, “Not sure how that got on.”

 

“It’s one of your set stations!,” she realized and switched to the next. An awful noise came out of the speakers. “Metal?” She switched it again and classical came on. “Do you have split personality disorder?”

 

“I’m _eclectic_ ,” he argued.

 

“You’re _aweirdo_ ,” she corrected and he chuckled.

 

She flipped to her favorite indie rock station and if he minded he didn’t say anything. She drummed on her legs as Robb pulled onto the highway heading north.

 

“Nervous?,” he asked.

 

“Of course not,” she lied.

 

“It’s only natural,” he said casually, “You are walking into the wolf den after all.”

 

“Wolf den?,” she asked.

 

He nodded as he switched lanes, “Yeah I mean… Sansa’s nice, obviously. But the rest of ‘em… _not_ so easy.”

 

She gulped and clutched her stomach, “What do you mean?”

 

“Well,” he started and then paused thoughtfully, “Bran is kind of… omniscient. You know so um, don’t be alarmed if he just seems to know things about you and Rickon… well he’s as wild as they come.”

 

“They’re teenage boys,” she remembered, “How bad can they be?”

 

“Fair point,” he allowed, “The one you’ve really got to watch out for is Arya. Little she-wolf, that one. I’m almost positive she killed a man in Braavos.”

 

She stared at him and waited. It was faint at first but it grew quickly, until the smile was overtaking his face.

 

“You beast!,” she chided.

 

He chuckled, “Got you to stop fidgeting though, didn’t I?”

 

He glanced at her briefly and she blushed and he fixed his eyes back on the road. She had the feeling that his attention was still on her though.

 

It was peculiar, the way she always seemed to be aware of him. He was large, so it was kind of impossible not to be, but she knew that it was more than that. That it had to do with the life growing inside of her and the night they’d created it.

 

It was entirely unlike her. She had never had a one night stand before, she’d only ever slept with two people before him - her high school boyfriend and Trystane. But she’d felt something with him immediately that had never existed between her and anyone, that crackled as it flowed between them like electric currents.

 

She had tried to forget about it after the fact, but it was impossible. She refused to call him, knowing she’d be nothing more than a notch in his belt, but even still she couldn’t help but think of him when she closed her eyes at night.

 

“So who do you think Sadie is going to end up with?,” he asked her.

 

“At first I thought Damian,” she answered, “But now I- wait… what?”

 

“Oh did you think I wouldn’t find out about your date night with my best friend?,” he asked her.

 

She giggled, “I think you mean my date night with your sister that your best friend crashed two weeks in a row.”

 

“I thought you liked his _insights_ ,” Robb argued.

 

“Jealous?,” she teased.

 

“Yes,” he grinned, “Horrifically.”

 

She chuckled, and laughed all the harder when she imagined Robb at home watching the dreadful show by himself. She almost didn’t notice when he pulled off the highway onto a dirt road.

 

“You’re good,” she noted.

 

“I know,” he agreed.

 

Myrcella rolled her eyes and then pushed the button down until her window opened. The air felt fresher already and she leaned her head out.

 

“Grey Wind does that too,” Robb joked.

 

“The sun feels…,” she started and trailed off as it beat down on her cheek.

 

She let her fingers thread through the air. There was nothing quite like warm summer wind.

 

She turned to smile at Robb and found him looking at her and then shake himself out of it and turn back towards the road. She ignored that her heart lurched and when the baby kicked she stroked her stomach softly with her hand, pressing her palm to it.

 

_Shh shh shh, little alien. Daddy can’t know I have a crush on him._

 

Robb turned the car down a long driveway that was lined on either side by Braavosi moss. It went on for a mile at least and there were horses on one side and she could see a stream off in the distance.

 

“Robb… it’s so…,” she started but couldn’t quite find the words.

 

“I know,” he agreed.

 

He pulled into the circular drive and turned off the car and she unbuckled her seatbelt. She pulled down the visor and looked in the mirror, making sure her concealer hadn’t clumped.

 

“Oh come on,” Robb chided, “You know you look beautiful.”

 

Her cheeks took on a much needed blush and though she could have said anything she merely said, “Thank you.”

 

She flipped the visor back up and hopped out of the car, opening the back door for Grey Wind. He hopped out effortlessly and took off.

 

“Oh!,” she exclaimed.

 

“Don’t worry,” Robb assured her, “He’s just going to find the others.”

 

She was about to ask _what others_ when two middle aged people walked out the front door. The man was a smidge shorter than Robb with dark brown hair that had silvered in certain places and a stern looking face. The woman had beautiful auburn hair so like Sansa’s that must go nearly to her waist when it was down, but was tied in a bun at the nape of her neck, a plain white button down and cropped black pants on.

 

“Robb, oh Robb!,” she exclaimed and came rushing down.

 

Robb hurried towards her and swept her into a hug. She brushed his hair back and pressed a kiss to his cheek and his father shook his hand.

 

“We weren’t expecting you so early,” his mother said.

 

“That’s my fault,” she said without thinking and the three of them turned in tandem towards her. “I was itching to get out of the city.”

 

Mrs. Stark smiled kindly at her and stepped away from her first born towards her.

 

“Well, my dear, I can certainly understand that,” she said and held out her hands, “I’m Catelyn. Welcome to our home.”

 

“Thank you,” she told her, “I’m very pleased to meet you. And you, Mr. Stark.”

 

As though he had not been expecting her to address him his face took on a look of surprise. For some reason she did not think this happened frequently.

 

He stepped forward next and offered her his hand. She shook it with the handshake her grandfather had taught her when she was five years old and he glanced down in surprise.

 

“Welcome, Myrcella,” he said.

 

“Now Myrcella,” Catelyn said, stepping forward and hooking her arm through hers, “Robb tells me your morning sickness is gone, but if you feel at all unwell just let me know. You can lie down in one of the guest rooms if you need to, no questions asked, alright?”

 

She nodded, “Thank you, but Robb was right. I feel great.”

 

Catelyn smiled, “Of course you do. You’re about 18 weeks on, is that right?” Myrcella nodded, “Even still, you just let me know. My brood can tire out even the sternest stock.”

 

She giggled and was surprised when Robb came and wrapped his arm around his mother’s shoulders, “What lies are you telling?”

 

“Oh you know I never -,” she started but didn’t get the chance to finish as two teenage boys and five dogs came running out into the driveway.

 

“ROBB!,” the younger of the two shouted.

 

“Rick!,” Robb exclaimed, letting go of his mother and going to greet his younger brothers. The first wrapped him in a bare hug, nearly his height though he must be ten years his junior. The other looked at her curiously before Robb pulled him into a hug as well. “Guys uh, this is Myrcella…”

 

The younger one jumped forward like an excited puppy. From his size she would have put him at sixteen or seventeen, but his face was younger than that. No more than fourteen. The same age as -

 

“I’m Rickon!,” he all but shouted at her and she couldn’t help but smile. “I’m going to be your kid’s _favorite_ uncle.”

 

She laughed, “Is that so? And _what_ may I ask are you going to do to earn that honor?”

 

Rickon shrugged, “Buy him beer.”

 

She was so surprised that a child would say such a thing in front of his parents that a snort escaped.

 

“Did you just -,” Robb started.

 

“No,” she shook her head.

 

“I didn’t hear anything,” the other boy said.

 

“Me _either,_ ” Rickon agreed and she raised her eyebrows at Robb.

 

He mumbled something about them being traitors as the elder of the two boys introduced himself as Bran.

 

Dogs were trying to fight their way in but she recognized one, the prettiest of the bunch.

 

“Hi Lady,” she cooed and the dog sat down immediately and offered her paw. She crouched down and took it, pressing a kiss to her soft forehead, “That’s my girl.”

 

A giant black dog pushed Lady out of the way and swiped up her entire face with his tongue.

 

“Shaggy!,” Catelyn reprimanded.

 

Myrcella laughed though and turned to Rickon, “Let me guess, he’s yours?”

 

Rickon grinned, “How’d you know?”

 

“Some things,” she started and paused as Robb held out his hand for her. She took it and allowed him to help her up. Her eyes met his and the air crackled, “You can just tell right away.”

 

*

 

She hadn’t expected Catelyn to be right, but she had learned quickly that she always was. The morning had been lovely and lunch, which they all called dinner was delicious. She had been sat in between Sansa and Theon, who had championed her at every turn. Not that the Starks were a particularly difficult group.

 

As Robb had noted, Arya was the only one who gave her a hard time, but it was tempered by her girlish giggle and the way she gave it to everyone around the table.

 

Even still, once the plates had been cleared and Rickon was asking Robb to look over a history essay, she had felt the need to lie down. She went to Catelyn’s side and without saying anything the older woman took her by the hand and lead her up the back stairwell to a nicely appointed guest room.

 

She felt a little silly, until she’d become pregnant she had never been one for naps, but she couldn’t resist the fluffy looking comforter.

 

The sheets were cool and the pillows soft and she climbed into bed and closed her eyes. She didn’t fall asleep but just to rest felt good after the morning she’d had. Crying always tired her out.

 

She heard a knock on the door and she called, “Come in,” as she moved to sit up.

 

“Don’t get up,” Robb said as he closed the door, “I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I know it’s a lot.”

 

She shook her head, “No it’s lovely I just… this morning…”

 

He gestured towards the bed and she nodded so he sat down on the edge of it.

 

“I understand,” he said and then shook his head, “I mean I don’t but I can imagine.”

 

She really was tired so she scooted back down the bed and yawned, “How was the essay?”

 

“Riddled with fabrications.”

 

She smiled, “Lucky to have you as a proofreader.”

 

“Try telling him that,” Robb chuckled, “I’m pretty sure he was throwing darts at a picture of my face when I left.”

 

She giggled, “He’ll thank you in the long run.” She yawned, “Do you want to get back to the city?”

 

“No,” he said, his voice shifting tone on the single syllable.

 

She closed her eyes and curled up. She could tell he was still sitting there, from the dip in the mattress, and the soft sound of his breath, and the way she felt suddenly, viciously awake. She felt it again and smiled.

 

“What?,” he asked her.

 

She lifted the covers and brought his hand to her stomach. His fingers spread across it and the alien went erratic, as though desperate to make contact.

 

“The parasite likes you more than me,” she told him.

 

“Impossible,” he all but whispered. She opened her eyes and he shook his head, “Who in their right mind could prefer anyone to you? And my child is no simpleton…”

 

She looked away from him towards her stomach and saw that the wrap top had come undone a little and his hand was on bare skin. Goosebumps rose at the realization and she didn’t think she imagined his thumb swiping her skin softly.

 

It felt so good. Too good.

 

“Get out,” she said stupidly.

 

“Huh?,” he asked fairly.

 

She couldn’t help but lean into it and even though she hated herself for it she chided him, “You…sitting in bed with me is not _boundaries_ Robb.”

 

He got off the bed shaking his head, “I _asked_ you - damn it Myrcella, it’s like one step forward six steps back with you.”

 

He was right, he was absolutely, unreservedly right. It must be exhausting for him, dealing with her. And he was so patient and kind. He deserved an explanation. Even if it humiliated her.

 

“I’m sorry,” she admitted, getting out of bed. He stopped walking towards the door and she shook her head, “It’s… these… um… well these cravings…”

 

He turned around and though she could tell he was still annoyed, and probably a little hurt, he still asked, “Do you want me to get you something? Some ice cream…or…”

 

“No,” she sighed, “It’s not that kind of craving.”

 

“Well what is it?,” he asked, “Savory? Salty? Do you want a burger do you -“

 

“I want you!,” she all but exploded.

 

“M-me?,” he asked and she wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

 

“Well,” she said, sitting on the bed, “The thing is…lately…I guess…it’s totally normal um according to the internet and Dr. Tarly… but I’vekindofsortofbeenhavingtheseunconventionalcravings.”

 

“For me?,” he repeated.

 

“Gods, yes Robb okay, _for you_!,” she practically shouted at him. “It’s just the baby… you know um… apparently it’s anyway…all of _that_ energy has kind of…transferred…specifically…to you.”

 

“Oh,” he said.

 

She nodded, “Right so obviously you and I can never speak again so I’ll get a ride back with Sansa and I’ll just meet you outside the delivery room, alright?”

 

She got out of bed and slipped on her shoes, grabbing her cardigan and moved to go by him. She couldn’t even look at him she was so humiliated.

 

Which is why she didn’t see him reach to grab her arm. She felt it though, as his large hand circled her wrist. His fingers brushed over her pulse point and she felt it in her entire body.

 

“Robb,” she pleaded, “Don’t.”

 

“Why not?,” he asked softly, and then his lips were at her temple and he breathed out, “Myrcella.”

 

It was too much, he was too much, and the morning, all the emotions that had bubbled to the surface, and the way his mother called him baby and he seemed as he sat around the table with his siblings like the sturdiest person in their world. All of it, it was enough to make a woman mad.

 

Which is why she turned and stood on her tiptoes and captured his lips in hers. He kissed her back immediately, one arm wrapping around her lower back and the other disappearing in her hair. She though she had remembered what it felt like to be kissed by him, but her mind could not truly recreate the sensation.

 

She moaned into his mouth and he picked her up and got on the bed, lowering her to it slowly. He had tackled her that night, flipped her around. But now his movements were as measured as they were passionate.

 

It was because of the child, and the understanding he was thinking of that made her want him even closer.

 

“Robb,” she whimpered as he kissed down her neck to the tops of her breasts.

 

He tugged her top open and then his hands were on her breasts and she cried out. His eyes flashed to hers and then he lowered his lips to them again, his mouth closing over a nipple through the sheer fabric.

 

She arched her back, pushing herself against his mouth and his hand wandered down her body and gripped a thigh and wrapped it around him, pulling her flush against him. She let out a gasp and he rolled them so that she was on top of him.

 

She leaned down and captured his lips again as he pushed her shirt off her body. She started to push his up as well, revealing his strong pecks and abs. She had dreamed of his body and she lowered her lips to him, kissing over his muscles.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned.

 

“Oh we’re going to,” she said without thinking, her hand moving over his khakis to cup him as he tossed his shirt across the room.

 

Just like last time he was hard and ready for her, and she gripped him through his pants.

 

“Not yet,” he said though and her eyes flashed to his. He raised his brow, “Oh I see, only you get to say no, _hmm_? Don’t like it when someone else is in control, do you, Baratheon?”

 

With that he flipped her and straddled her, blocking her in. His hand trailed down her body, making her squirm as he unbuttoned her jeans.

 

“Hold still,” he ordered.

 

She tried to be but then he unzipped her jeans and moved his hand underneath them until he was cupping her through her panties. She parted her legs for him and he moved his fingers in circles around her.

 

“Robb, _please_ ,” she cried out.

 

He groaned, “ _Seven hells.”_

 

He got off of her and moved backwards, taking one ballet flat off and chucking it across the room and then the other. Then he tugged her jeans and panties off in one motion and took hold of a thigh in each hand and pushed them back and parted them.

 

He dove in, for lack of a better word, burying his face in her. She cried out, covering her mouth to muffle the sound as his lips found her clit. His tongue swiped over it, once, twice, again and again as he eased a finger inside of her, and then another.

 

Her body was already building, she could feel the familiar sensation of it as his tongue moved over her. He curled his fingers inside of her and flicked his tongue at the same time and she fell over the edge, a surprised sigh escaping her lips.

 

She couldn’t help but smile to herself. Her vibrator was good but it wasn’t _that_ good. It didn’t have his lips or tongue or hands - which were still busying themselves on her body.

 

“Did that…,” he asked, kissing her breasts, “Satisfy your craving?”

 

“No,” she told him honestly and his eyes met hers in concern. She reached her hand down and felt him still hard and he groaned, “Not nearly.”

 

He caught her lips with his and kissed her deeply, unhooking her bra and letting his hand continued downwards until he took hold of her butt. He squeezed it and she moaned, her fingers undoing his belt and then his pants and tugging them down.

 

He helped her pull them off of him and then his boxers quickly followed. She moved to grab hold of him and he stopped her.

 

She looked at him with a question in her eyes and he chuckled, “I’m afraid if you touch me this won’t happen. I’ve uh… been craving you too.”

 

She smiled and kissed him, her fingers threading into his russet curls. He kissed her back and then she realized what he’d said and pushed him away gently.

 

“Craving? You’re not pregnant,” she pointed out.

 

He hadn’t even bothered opening his eyes and a lazy grin appeared on his face as he took her by the head, “Come on Myrcella, haven’t you ever heard of sympathy symptoms?”

 

She giggled as he kissed her, and their smiles met one another. His strong arm tugged her against him and it was she that intensified it, hooking her leg over him and straddling him.

 

His eyes were wide open now and they trailed from her face, over her breasts, to her stomach.

 

“I know,” she admitted, “I’m become a whale overnight.”

 

He shook his head, his hand moving to press to her stomach, a hint of wonder in his voice when he said, “Not exactly what I was thinking.”

 

He wasn’t lying. She knew him by now well enough to know it, but even more than that she could _feel_ it. His hard cock was underneath her and she rubbed herself against it.

 

His eyes snapped to hers, and she did it again. He reached down and took hold of himself and she eased onto him. She could feel him stretching her and they both let out a moan as their bodies met.

 

 _This_ , her body screamed at her, _this is what you needed_.

 

A madness took over her and she started moving back and forth, taking him inside of her again and again.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned, and both of his hands grabbed hold of her bottom, as she rocked back and forth.

 

“ _Harder_ ,” she pleaded and his fingers dug into her and she moaned in delight.

 

He sat up, hunched over as he worked her on him. He took hold of her breast with his mouth and she held onto his hair for support.

 

“ _Robb_ ,” she whimpered and he spanked her, hard and fast.

 

His teeth closed around her nipple and she buried her face in his neck and let out a muffled scream and all the while she was riding him faster and faster.

 

“Fuck, fuck Myrcella,” he growled, taking her by the hips and driving her against him at a new angle.

 

It made her see stars and then she didn’t know what happened, she was only vaguely aware that he was still moving her against him and then her body just kind of _snapped_ and all the pent up energy she’d been feeling rushed out of her. She was just conscious enough to know that he came a second later and she fell back against the bed, her legs still wrapped around him, her hair all around her face, her arms up.

 

Her body was totally and completely exposed to him and she couldn’t find it in herself to care in this moment. He could do anything he wanted to her after that.

 

In truth though, he didn’t seem capable of much as he collapsed back against the pillows, his fingers trailing lazily up and down her thigh.

 

“Well that was…,” she started and then trailed off, yawning lazily.

 

“Better than honey-lavender?,” he suggested.

 

“Don’t get crazy,” she chided.

 

He let out a surprised chuckle and it beckoned her own and soon they were clutching their sides as tears ran down their faces. It wasn’t that funny, not even nearly, but it felt good to release.

 

It had been a day of release, and somehow he’d made each one of them feel easier than it should, and right. Earlier he’d asked her to trust him. He didn’t realize that she already did. That that was the problem. That she wasn’t used to trusting anyone or anything except herself and that it was terrifying to feel like you might rely on someone.

 

She didn’t want to think about that, so she eased up and then lowered her chest to his, kissing him softly. He kissed her back and his fingers trailed down her sides and up again and it caused goosebumps all over her skin and her nipples to peak.

 

She moved against him and he tackled her softly backwards, his hand cupping her cheek as their kiss deepened.

 

“Another craving?,” he teased, looking down at her with mirth in her eyes.

 

She grinned, “It’s either you or salted cashews.”

 

He leaned down and kissed her again, kissing her cheek and down her neck and up to her ear, murmuring, “Too much sodium isn’t good for the baby,” as he eased himself between her legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiii so I know people were looking forward to the Stark dinner, I hope you don't mind that I kind of skipped over it!


	7. Hazelnut Ice Cream

 

 

Robb practically ran into the building and saw Sid standing there. He was about to re-introduce himself when Sid told the elevator attendant to bring him up to the Penthouse. Clearly, Myrcella had warned them he was coming.

 

He walked with as much dignity as he could, though it was rather difficult when he was already semi-hard just at the thought of what was about to happen. It was probably written all over his face, what he was here for. He was sure this stuffy building didn’t get too many visitors at 8:30 at night on a Tuesday. The elevator attendant looked at him curiously as they travelled upwards but he kept his eyes on the buttons. _One, two, three, four…_ and up and up they went.

 

He stepped off the elevator into the small vestibule outside of Myrcella’s apartment door. The elevator doors closed shut and as though she’d been waiting the door of her apartment swung open. She was still dressed for work, in a light grey short sleeved dress. The only accommodation she’d made was to take off her shoes. She looked beautiful and ravenous.

 

“They didn’t have honey-lavender,” he told her by way of greeting, “So I got you hazelnut. I can -“

 

“I don’t care,” she shook her head and closed the distance between them and pulled his face down to hers.

 

She kissed him forcefully, her soft lips taking hold of his, her body pressed against his. If she didn’t care about the ice cream than he certainly didn’t and he reached down her body, pausing on her glorious ass and then wrapped his hands around her thighs and lifted her up. She came easily enough, even nearly five months pregnant she was light as a feather and her yoga-trained thighs gripped his waist, their kiss never breaking.

 

It had been over a week since Winterfell. He’d begun to think that it had just been a one-off thing, a blip, a bit of hysteria after the emotions of the day. He’d thought about it every second of every day since then though. He had known their night together was something different, she’d been the best sex of his life, but she was gorgeous and mysterious and he’d had a little bit to drink. Winterfell was different though, she was still gorgeous, undeniably, and with every piece of information he gained he felt like it alluded to a deeper mystery still. But he knew her, a little bit, and they were sober and though not necessarily in control of themselves, at the very least they were entirely conscious of their delirium. It had been even better than the first time, the feel of being inside of her, her hands pulling him closer, the smell of her and the taste of her and the sounds she made when he pleased her.

 

She broke away from him to get a breath but he had no need for oxygen and kissed down her neck, inhaling the scent of her shampoo.

 

“Bedroom,” she said. And then her lips were on his neck too, her fingers in his hair. He felt her teeth close around his earlobe gently and then she whispered, “ _Hurry_.”

 

He felt panic strike. He was hard to the point of painful and her apartment was enormous, “I don’t know which way I’m going.”

 

She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck and gestured, “That way.”

 

He followed her directions and walked down a hallway. All the while she was kissing his neck and his ears and his jaw. He wasn’t sure he was even seeing, it couldn’t be possible to with your eyes rolled into the back of your head, but he kept on walking.

 

They got into a large bedroom, but he didn’t look at anything except the bed. He walked over and knelt on it. His desire to flip her around and manhandle her the way he knew she liked was being tempered by the fact that she was carrying his child inside of her, which beckoned him to be gentler, more careful, so he laid her down.

 

He kissed her breasts over her dress and her stomach traveling down to the apex of her thighs. He could smell her through the material, her desire for him and he bit her gently making her cry out.

 

“Robb, please,” she begged, “I can’t…”

 

Her desperation was an exact mirror of his own and it was a heady, addicting feeling. He got up on his knees, his eyes on hers and unbuckled his belt. Her jadeite eyes went wide as he unbuttoned his pants and she pulled her dress up her legs and reached underneath and pulled her panties down. They were white lace, because _of course they were_ and he yanked them down her legs as he freed himself. He’d like to undress her fully, the sight of her naked was no small thing to pass up, but there was no time.

 

Her eyes begged him again and he grasped onto her thighs, easing in between them, and pressing himself against her. She was warm and so wet, and if he’d had any thoughts of teasing her they went out the window at that first contact. She hissed when his cock touched her and he couldn’t help but grin, because for all her icy ways she was as warm-blooded as he was.

 

He entered her slowly and then all at once. She lifted her hips off the bed and he moved his hands up to hold onto her ass. He gripped it harshly as he eased out of her and then slammed back in. When she cried out his eyes moved to hers to make sure it had been in pleasure before he did it again. She raised her brow as though to say _what are you waiting for?_

 

He thrust into her and pulled nearly all the way out before thrusting in again. He took up a rhythm and soon there were just the noises of their quickened breath and their bodies joining again and again.

 

Her eyes were on his all the while and when he rolled his hips, hitting her at a new angle, her face contorted in pleasure. He did it again and again and her cheeks were pink and her eyes were glazed and then she pulled her dress up.

 

Just the sight of her was enough to spur him on, but then her fingers went to her clit and she started rubbing it.

 

“ _Fuck, Myrcella_ ,” he all but whimpered, feeling like a virgin before a goddess. She seemed to like that. He could feel her tightening around his cock, and she started rubbing herself more intensely. “Are you gonna come for me?”

 

She let out a moan and he thrust into her harder. She knew what he wanted, “ _Yes!”_

 

“So close,” he told her, rolling his hips. He only had seconds left himself. “So close.”

 

“So close,” she repeated in a whisper.

 

It was almost sweet, and he couldn’t resist the sight of her, so he leaned down and kissed her parted lips. He could feel her orgasm everywhere, in the clench of her cunt and the way her thighs shook around him, and the exhaled moan into his mouth. He was helpless against it and released into her, burying his face in her neck.

 

He was about to get off of her, sure that he was crushing her and very possibly their child, when he felt her hand in his hair. She stroked it gently, not as she had before but in a more soothing gesture. Her other hand was splayed on his back and she gave no signs she was uncomfortable. He trailed a kiss to her neck, and then to her cheek and up to her temple. He let his nose press into her soft hair, wondering if other women smelled this good and he’d just never really noticed.

 

He felt something jump against his stomach and he moved off of her.

 

“Was that you?,” he asked her.

 

She pressed her hand to her stomach, brushing down her dress to cover herself in one elegant gesture.

 

“The alien just woke up,” she informed him.

 

But she said it in a voice he’d only heard a few times from her, and her hand brushed her stomach as she did. He stole a glance at her face and it was the picture of serenity. She had already been blessed with the grace of motherhood.

 

He suddenly felt very oafish and crass next to her, so he tucked himself back into his pants and buttoned them, buckling his belt. Unsure of what to do next he reached a tentative hand out to her stomach. She moved her hand out of the way of his and eased back on the pillows.

 

He waited and then he felt it, a fluttering against his hand. He didn’t think, he just laid his ear against her stomach. The fluttering happened again.

 

“Busy, busy,” Myrcella all but cooed.

 

“Is she always?,” he wondered softly, not wanting to scare the little parasite or its host.

 

“So it’s a girl today?,” she asked, and he could swear he heard her smile.

 

“Has been for the past few days,” he told her. He had been thinking about it a lot. They had the sonogram tomorrow where they would officially find out. Ever since he’d found out he was going to be a father it had switched back and forth for him, but over the past few days it had been a girl in every thought, every prayer. “With a dimple in each cheek, Arya’s hair and your eyes.”

 

“Sounds like payback,” she chuckled.

 

“Payback?,” he asked in mock-horror.

 

He turned around and found her rolling her eyes, “Don’t act like you don’t deserve to have a _beautiful_ daughter.”

 

He chuckled because she was right. He totally deserved it. Roslin wasn’t the only girl who’d fallen for him only to be let down, just the most recent. He remembered the night he’d met Myrcella, how she’d called him out for using his sisters as a judge for how he treated women. She’d been teasing, but he’d known the truth in it. The double-standard of it all.

 

“You’re right, I do,” he said, and was about to tease her about how he’d be cursed if she had her face, but then he remembered what else she’d told him. About her face being unlucky.

 

He found that he couldn’t really tease her about any of it at all. Her past was like walking through a field of landmines. He couldn’t joke about calling her father and getting his advice, or about how terrifying it was to grow up with beautiful sisters.

 

She was like a flower that had grown in a graveyard.

 

“You’re not so bad,” she allowed.

 

“High praise,” he joked, though from her it kind of was. And then he remembered, “And _after_ I brought you ice cream!”

 

She laughed, “Would you believe I’m not even hungry for it now?”

 

She reclined against the pillows, her hair all around her head like a crown, a lazy smile on her face. He couldn’t help but feel a little smug that he had worn her out. During their past two encounters she had been nearly insatiable.

 

“Well if _you’re_ not going to eat it,” he said, hopping off the bed. He jogged down the hallway into the kitchen where he’d somehow managed to drop the ice cream on the counter. It was melting but he went into the drawers until he found a spoon and took off the lid and jogged back into her room. He hopped on the bed next to her and she let out an _oof_ when he did. Though he suspected she was just being dramatic. He dipped the spoon in and then offered it to her but she shook her head. He licked it off and was surprised how good it was. He never went for nutty flavors. “By the gods this is good.”

 

“I’m happy you’re happy,” she told him.

 

He had another bite and he realized he was happy. This was the first time that he had really been comfortable around her.

 

Well actually, that wasn’t entirely true.

 

She was different in bed. It wasn’t just that their sex came so naturally, but in the aftermath too. She was different, softer somehow, younger even. He’d been with girls who faked it, but Myrcella never did. She was _herself_ in bed, wholly. Gone were the walls and the placid client-facing smiles. It was just _her_.

 

“I’d be happier if you’d try this,” he told her, offering her another bite.

 

She held her hand up and ordered prissily, “Get that _away_ from me. This dress cost a fortune.”

 

He rolled his eyes. He’d grown up with two sisters, he knew when a girl was being a brat just to be a brat.

 

“Come onnnn _,”_ he goaded, “It’s _delicioussss_.”

 

She sat up to push him away and on a whim he kissed her instead. She licked her lips and nodded, “It is delicious.”

 

“Told ya,” he said and then asked, gesturing to the spoon, “Want some more?”

 

She nodded, but her eyes were on his lips. He brought the spoon into his mouth and licked it clean and her lips popped open. Before she could say anything he leaned in and kissed her again. Her tongue was warm against the coldness of his and she went _mmm_ against him which oddly gave him goosebumps.

 

She deepened the kiss, getting up on her knees and wrapping her arms around his neck, and he put the ice cream carton down on the night stand and pulled her into his arms. She fell into his lap and he leaned her backwards, sucking on her perfect bottom lip.

 

She licked his lip teasingly and looked up at him, “You know what else this would taste good on?”

 

“Hmm?,” he wondered not understanding the question.

 

“The ice cream,” she reminded him.

 

“Oh right,” he nodded and kissed her again, because what was hazelnut ice cream compared to Myrcella Baratheon.

 

She pushed his face away and ordered, “Ask me what this ice cream would taste good on.”

 

He rolled his eyes, “What would this ice cream taste good on, Myrcella?” She winked at him. He furrowed his brow. She winked again and his jaw dropped, “Myrcella!”

 

“Come _on_ Robb,” she said, pushing him against the pillows and shifting so that she was straddling him. His hands wandered down her sides to cup her butt. “It’s just good economics,” she teased and leaned down and kissed him, “Two cravings for the price of one.”

 

He had never in his life turned down what she was offering, but even still he hesitated.

 

“It will be cold,” he pointed out.

 

“At first,” she allowed, as she started unbuttoning his shirt.

 

“What about your dress?,” he asked, “I thought it _cost a fortune_.”

 

She smirked and got off of him and reached behind her and unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor. She was now clad in only a white lace bra. He had read a lot about pregnancy, different symptoms, what fathers-to-be should be worried about at each stage. But it wasn’t until he’d really gone looking that he’d found articles dedicated to describing _why_ you found the mother-to-be so uncontrollably sexy. He was afraid he’d had a kink he didn’t know about, but then he’d sat next to a pregnant woman at a conference and felt nothing. It was just her, just Myrcella. Maybe it was because she was carrying his child, the most intimate thing he could imagine, or maybe it was just her. And she was standing there in all her glory.

 

She put a hand on her hip and asked, “Any other questions?”

 

“None,” he told her honestly.

 

She finished unbuttoning his shirt and started kissing his pecks and abs, her hand wandering down to cup him over his trousers. She unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants and he helped her take them off of him. His boxers came next and it seemed kind of silly to keep on his shirt so he took that off as well.

 

She knelt back on the bed and dipped her finger into carton of ice cream.

 

“Heathen,” he teased and she grinned before smearing the ice cream on his lips.

 

She leaned in and licked it off, and he caught her lips, kissing her ardently. She kissed him back and then pulled away, placing both of her hands on his shoulders and then pushing him down against the pillows. His heart was thudding in his chest, though he had no idea why he was nervous.

 

She dipped the spoon into the carton and then brought over his chest, letting the somewhat melted ice cream drip until his breast bone. He hissed and she glanced up at him. It was odd to be on this side of things. Her checking to make sure that he was okay. He winked at her.

 

She smiled and leaned down, licking the ice cream off his body. She did it again, dropping it on his nipple and then sucked it into her warm mouth. All the while her perfect ass was up in the air and her hair was on his chest, her hands all over his body.

 

She started moving down and he could hardly breath. She did it in his belly button and he couldn’t help but laugh and he was afraid he’d ruined it but then she started laughing too and gave him a raspberry.

 

She moved downwards and took the spoon again. He was afraid she’d drop the ice cream right on his cock but instead she licked the ice cream of the spoon and then took his cock inside her mouth.

 

He was pretty sure he let out a yelp but he didn’t have it in him to care because _gods have mercy_. The contrast of the cold and warmth was dizzying and then there was the feel of her lips around him. Her tongue swirled all over him and though he was sure the ice cream was long gone she showed no signs of stopping.

 

He wasn’t really sure how _this_ helped _her_ cravings but he was not about to challenge her on it as her mouth moved up and down him. She hollowed her cheeks and his hips lifted off the bed on their own volition.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned.

 

She looked up at him and slid off of him with a _pop_ and without missing a beat her tongue licked his balls, taking one in her mouth as her hand took hold of his cock. He’d had some good blow jobs in his day but none quite compared to this.

 

Especially not when she started laughing.

 

At first he didn’t even notice, the vibrations of her mouth felt so good. But then she snorted and he couldn’t really miss it.

 

“Myrcella?,” he asked, and she only started laughing harder. “Myrcella! You can’t laugh when you are near a man’s _manhood_.”

 

This caused another round of laughter and she sat up on her knees.

 

He supported himself on his elbows and asked, “Have you gone mad?”

 

“Hazel-,” she let out, and then shook her head, another peal of laughter, “Hazel-“ He was about to ask her what on earth she was talking about but then she pointed at his groin and said, “Hazel _nut_ ice cream.”

 

He just kind of stared at her at first, and when she saw the look on his face it only made her laugh harder. _Hazelnuts_. He burst out laughing, because the whole thing was so entirely ridiculous that he couldn’t really help it.

 

“You’re a child,” he said, though he was still laughing.

 

“I’m sorry,” she told him, and he could tell she was trying to be serious. Her face turned solemn when she said, “I ruined your blowjob.”

 

A peal of laughter escaped him and she looked at him shyly and then giggled too.

 

“Come here, please,” he said, bolder and needier than he might usually be with her.

 

As though the laughter had broken down her walls she crawled up the bed to him and knelt at his side.

 

He went to kiss her and then realized she had ice cream smeared on her cheeks.

 

“You’re a mess,” he informed her.

 

She went to shove him and her hand stuck to his chest, “You’re one to talk.”

 

He caught her hand and took it in his, “So what do you say, Baratheon. You got a shower in this dump?”

 

She smiled and straddled him briefly before hopping off the bed. She’d managed to hold his hand the whole time and he wasn’t about to let go of hers so he eased off the bed as well. She didn’t move but she brushed her hair to the side and looked up at him, raising her brow.

 

He realized what she wanted so he used his other hand to unsnap her bra.

 

She chuckled, “Smooth.”

 

He swept her up into his arms until he was cradling her, relishing in her gasp. When her eyes met his he said with a cocky grin, “Oh you have no idea.”

 

It faded when he saw the pink on her cheeks and she ordered softly, “Show me then.”

 

It was a challenge, but a gentler one. It wasn’t quite trust, it was far too soon for that from her, but perhaps it was an agreement to try.

 

He wondered if this was the key. Not sex, not the act of it anyway, but the intimacy of it. He’d never really understood what people meant by it, but he couldn’t deny the fact that however they may be in the real world, when they were together in bed something changed in both of them.

 

So he didn’t reply with anything teasing, he just walked her towards the bathroom and set her down when they got to the shower. He let her turn it on to her specifications and walked inside, pulling her along. The hot water felt good, and her hands wiping the ice cream from his chest and stomach even better.

 

He rubbed her cheek with his thumb, ridding her of it, and then it felt perfectly natural to cup that cheek and lean down to kiss her, so he did.

 

She kissed him back, softly, slowly, the way she only ever did on their second time. Their first time was always too hurried, too desperate, both of them swept up in the need of it. But the second time was always _want,_ a distinction that would be entirely invisible if he didn’t feel it in every fiber of his being.

 

His other hand raised to her cheek and he deepened the kiss. She let him take control, she always did, and her fingers trailed down his sides and held him steady against her. He walked her back until her body was against the wall of the shower and her hands moved around him until they squeezed onto his butt.

 

He was growing for her once again because it was impossible not to want her in even the most ordinary of circumstances, which this certainly was not.

 

He moved his hands down her arms to her waist, backing up slightly only to create enough room to spin her around and tug her firmly against his body. She let out a moan and he nipped at her shoulder.

 

His hands wandered freely over her body, cupping her breast and rolling her nippled under his thumb, his other hand stroking her thigh. Her ass was pressed against his cock and she tilted her head to the side, exposing her neck to him, vulnerable and submissive and it released the animal in him.

 

He latched onto her neck as his other hand moved closer and closer to the apex of her thighs. He could feel her anticipation, the slight parting of her legs.

 

“What is it, Ella?,” he teased, his teeth at the shell of her ear. “What is it that you want?” She whimpered and he moved the hand off her breast up to take hold gently of her neck, “Tell me or I won’t do it.”

 

It made sense. The girl who was always in control. Of course she craved this. And he was more than happy to give it to her.

 

“Touch me,” she pleaded.

 

He kissed her cheek and moved his other hand to her cunt. He trailed his fingers, ghosting over her. She reacted to him immediately and he kissed collarbone as he touched her more firmly, his fingers rubbing her lips. She was all silk, and soon he wasn’t in control either, his body acting on its own accord responding to her sighs and twitches and the catch of her breath. He didn’t think about it, he just acted and when she went on tip toes, her head thrown back against his shoulder as she climaxed, he felt the relief as well.

 

There weren’t any words, none were needed. She placed her foot up on the low seat and his knees bent so that he could ease inside of her. It was different, at this angle, and he rocked into her slowly again and again.

 

He moved his hands to her breasts and squeezed them gently, anchoring her to him as their bodies moved together.

 

She tilted her head and looked back at him and a moan escaped his lips. He leaned down and kissed her moving one hand up to hold her cheek, lest she think of turning away. His other hand moved down her body to the swell of her stomach and he held her body to him by, delighting in the firmness.

 

It should have been strange, or felt dirty, but it felt more natural than anything he’d ever experienced. It was later, when he’d dressed and she waved goodbye to him, clad only in her dusky purple robe, that was strange.

 

The truth, the horrible truth, was that leaving her felt more unnatural than anything ever had.


	8. The Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She back! 
> 
> I kind of can't believe I haven't updated this one since October??? 
> 
> I hope to be updating it much more now, continuing on my narrowing down of WIPs! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it, sorry if it is a bit rusty...took me some time to get back into this version of them.

“I can’t remember, do you take anything in it?,” Sansa asked as she handed her a cup of chamomile tea.

 

“Nothing, thank you,” Myrcella took the delicate porcelain gratefully.

 

Her stomach had been out of sorts the last few days. The morning sickness had come back all of a sudden and she was feeling its effects - she was more sluggish than she had been in the first trimester. She raised the cup to her face and the steam felt good on her cheeks.

 

She’d almost cancelled, but as Sansa led her into her living room she was glad she hadn’t. She loved Sansa’s apartment, all the unique, feminine details. There were pictures with her and her siblings and friends, her with a pink nose standing next to a suntanned Arya, one of her gnawing on Theon’s face. It was always warm without being stuffy, and cozy without being kitschy.

 

It felt like a home, one that had been lived in and well appreciated, and when she was here she felt well appreciated too.

 

She and Sansa settled on the overstuffed couch, and Myrcella brought her feet up and tucked them under her. Lady, ever the diplomat, settled onto the floor directly in between them as Sansa picked up the remote.

 

“Okay so who do we think is going to be eliminated tonight?,” Myrcella asked.

 

She and Sansa both stopped to consider and then at the same time said, “Melanie!”

 

Myrcella chuckled and Sansa turned to the station. They both knew the show was utter crap but that was the basis of its appeal. The petty dramas, the betrayals, the indecision - they ate it up with a soup ladle.

 

She took a sip of tea and brought her other hand to her stomach. The alien hadn’t kicked the whole afternoon, and she was trying not to worry too much about it - futilely. She had never been much for idle worrying. There were few things that she felt entirely out of her control and she often avoided them. When she couldn’t she’d tell herself that they didn’t matter, until she believed it.

 

But this, her alien, did matter. It mattered more than anything ever had and she often felt entirely helpless. She was eating the right things and trying to do the right things. It didn’t feel like enough though. So much of it seemed up to the alien, and chance, and God.

 

_Wake up, little alien. If you wake up I’ll give you some ice cream later…_

 

Nothing.

 

She was pleased she had her appointment with Dr. Tarly tomorrow. She took out her phone and added _Not kicking?_ to the list of questions she’d thought up in the last two weeks and was certain she’d forget the moment he asked, _So, does anyone want to know the gender of the little parasite?_

 

She tried not to think about that either, and focused instead on the television. They were reviewing what had happened on last week’s episode and she placed her tea on the coffee table and settled back against the couch cushions. She brought her other hand to her stomach and rubbed the bottom of her bump.

 

Lady got off her spot on the floor and ran quickly through the apartment and then they heard the door opening.

 

“There’s my girl, there she _issss_ ,” a man’s voice cooed.

 

Myrcella looked over at Sansa who was rolling her eyes, but smiling. It was so often her response to Theon. As expressive of her love as a declaration of it.

 

He came in a moment later cradling the enormous Lady like she was a little baby.

 

Lady had a smile on her face, as did Theon, and Myrcella scooted a bit over on the couch to make room for him next to Sansa.

 

“Hi baby,” Theon said, pressing a kiss to Sansa’s cheek and settling down onto the couch.

 

“Theon,” Sansa said pointedly.

 

“What?,” Theon asked and Sansa glared at him, “She’s not on the couch, Sansa, she’s on my _lap_.”

 

Sansa looked first at her, and then at Lady, who’s paw had been about to rest on the cushions but rested on Sansa’s thigh instead.

 

“This is against the rules,” Sansa sighed, though she didn’t push the issue.

 

“ _Well the rules are stupid, aren’t they?,”_ Theon asked Lady in the voice he seemed to reserve for her.

 

Lady’s tail thwacked on Myrcella’s thigh. In truth, about half of her body _was_ on the couch, but Myrcella wasn’t about to snitch.

 

The rules _were_ a little stupid in her opinion.

 

“Hey Sunshine,” Theon said to her and then pointed to her stomach, “How’s little Theon today?”

 

She chuckled, “I told you that you had to get that one past Robb.”

 

Theon grinned, “Oh don’t you worry about _Robb_. Robb and I have an understanding.”

 

Sansa paused the show and said, “Oh, and what understanding is that?”

 

Theon shrugged, “We both get to name each other’s first borns.”

 

“ _What!?_ ,” she and Sansa nearly screeched in tandem.

 

“Why?,” Sansa asked.

 

Theon shrugged but didn’t really answer and then mumbled, “We made a pact.”

 

She and Sansa’s eyes met and Sansa shook her head and goaded, “Oh so it’s totally made up, good.”

 

Theon stood up and left Lady very much on the couch and crossed around it to go into the kitchen. He seemed to stop midway though and turned to them. He opened his mouth as though to say something and then closed it again. She and Sansa turned to him expectantly.

 

Without much warning he shouted, “IT’S A BLOOD OATH LADIES, LOOK IT UP.”

 

He then disappeared into the kitchen and they heard him angrily opening the fridge.

 

Sansa turned to her and whispered, “Did he just say a _blood oath_?”

 

“10 to 1 it happened during frat hazing,” Myrcella held out her hand.

 

Sansa giggled and shook it and then turned the show back on. Theon came back in the room a moment later holding a beer and went back to where he’d been sitting. He tried to pick up Lady but the dog sighed and stretched out more on top of both Sansa and Myrcella.

 

“Lady, come on,” Theon ordered, placing his beer down and going to move her with both hands.

 

“ _And this is why Lady’s not allowed on the coooouch_ ,” Sansa sing-songed.

 

Theon glared at her and went to tug Lady but then Lady stood up and hopped off the couch and ran back towards the door. Theon jumped into the spot she’d just vacated, clearly scared of losing it and they all turned in tandem when they heard the door open again.

 

“Who’s my girl?,” they heard another voice ask. “Who is she? Hmm?”

 

A moment later Grey Wind came running into the room and as though Sansa’s rules could _never_ apply to him he got up on the couch, licking Sansa’s face, stepping over Theon and then settling himself next to her.

 

The dog was all but grinning at her and she couldn’t deny that she felt better with him around, even though she knew who came with him. Her stomach was filled with nerves and Grey Wind must have sensed it because he got onto her other side and laid down with his head in her lap.

 

A moment later Robb walked into the room, Lady glued to his side. The dog was looking up at him adoringly, a bit more of a prance in her step.

 

He looked gorgeous in a pair of dark jeans and a charcoal sweater, and he was holding a small bouquet of baby’s breath and a tool kit.

 

“Hey Robby,” Sansa said and then entirely unsubtly asked, “And what are _you_ doing here?”

 

He held up the tool kit and said, “I came to fix the faucet in your guest bathroom… _remember_?”

 

Sansa offered no support and said, “I remember telling you it was leaky and that the super was coming to fix it… which he did… three days ago.”

 

“Oh,” Robb nodded, as though he didn’t remember it playing out like that, and shrugged.

 

Theon chuckled, “You are so lame, dude.”

 

Sansa turned, immediately on the defense for Robb, “Last I checked you didn’t have an invite either, so what’s your excuse?”

 

They all turned to Theon and he shrugged, settling back against the couch, patting Sansa’s thigh, “I um… came to fix your faucet… if you know what I mean.”

 

“BOOOOO,” Myrcella heckled at the same time that Sansa wondered, “ _What would that even be a euphemism for?_ ”

 

“Oh _this_ is on,” Robb groaned, even as he walked around the back of the couch and settled into the vacant armchair.

 

Myrcella’s gaze unwillingly followed him, her heart pitter-pattering the way it always did when he was near. She hadn’t seen him since the _hazel-nut ice cream_ episode. They’d texted a few times, but with the morning sickness she hadn’t been having her _other_ cravings and had been getting into bed before eight each night —and then staying up for hours tossing and turning.

 

He seemed to be learning to respect her boundaries, because he hadn’t asked to come over any of the times they’d texted.

 

She’d contemplated asking him over just to have dinner with her. She wasn’t in the mood for any other activities though and if he was going to respect her boundaries, then she had to uphold them, so she hadn’t.

 

Even still, she couldn’t help but wonder if he hadn’t offered out of respect for her or because he had other plans.

 

As Robb got settled in he turned to her and gave her a small smile, “Hey.”

 

And just like that the alien woke up.

 

So when she responded, “Hi,” it came out like a coo.

 

She rubbed her stomach and he gestured to it, “All okay?”

 

Myrcella nodded happily, “Yeah, yeah it’s all fine.”

 

Though the alien was going insane now and Grey Wind was standing up and looking down at it. It was borderline uncomfortable and she tried to move to get into a better position.

 

Robb stood up and Grey Wind got off the couch and he sat next to her.

 

“Do you mind?,” he asked her, “It’s been a… while.”

 

She couldn’t really talk so she merely shook her head, and his large hand pressed against her stomach. His eyes immediately when to hers and she blushed but gave him an _I don’t know_ expression even though she kind of did.

 

Robb took her calves and brought them up so she was resting her feet on the table and then grabbed a throw pillow and lodged it behind her.

 

“Is that better?,” he asked.

 

“Yes, but,” she turned to look at Sansa and found her and Theon already looking at her. “I…”

 

“Don’t worry,” Sansa grinned, “Whatever you need to feel…comfortable.”

 

Myrcella turned quickly away, not liking her friend’s knowing look and turned back to Robb. His blue eyes, filled with concern weren’t really any better but she couldn’t manage to look away from them.

 

“Here, lean back,” he ordered and she settled against the cushion. Her head was sort of awkwardly against the cushions and as though he just knew he moved closer and wrapped one arm around her, pulling her so that part of her back and her head now rested more comfortably against his chest. “Is that better?”

 

She didn’t want to admit it, but it was the first time she’d been truly comfortable in days.

 

“I’m too heavy,” she protested.

 

Robb chuckled and his hand came to her stomach once again and he spoke in a low voice, “You have to be nicer to your Mommy, kid. You gotta let her rest.”

 

As though the alien had heard him, the erratic kick turned into a gentle, comforting nudge.

 

“That’s better,” he cooed and grabbed a blanket and pulled it over her. “That’s better.”

 

The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was her hand slipping over Robb’s on her stomach, and him intertwining her fingers with his own.

 

***

 

He couldn’t focus on the show, not with Myrcella leaning against him, sleeping so peacefully, her small hand on top of his own. Interlacing their fingers hadn’t even been a thought, just his body’s natural reaction to hers, and it was a testament to how tired she was that she didn’t move them away. That she’d allowed him to hold her in the first place. 

 

Sansa and Theon were being very good at minding their own business, only engaging him during commercial breaks when he inserted himself.

 

During one Sansa got up from the couch and headed towards the kitchen. She turned and asked, “Do you need anything?”

 

“No,” he all but whispered, as though it would be him speaking and not the show’s loud theatrics that would wake her.

 

Sansa gave him a small smile, “I don’t think she’s slept in days.”

 

Robb had known that the second he saw her. The purple half circles were back underneath her eyes and her face had looked drawn.

 

Under the safety of the blanket he traced small circles on her stomach. The alien was still awake, but calmer now, and he didn’t want to miss any time, any nudges.

 

He was a little annoyed with her, she’d promised to call him if she needed him and she hadn’t so much as _hinted_ that things weren’t perfect this week. They hadn’t spoken very much, but she’d been really upbeat when they had.

 

He’d considered calling Myrcella half a dozen times, just so that he could do exactly this. He knew her _cravings_ would come and go, but he still wanted to be around. For the baby, of course.

 

The show ended and Theon and Sansa looked at him. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do, but Sansa took pity on him and dragged Theon out of the room. He sat with her for another minute. She was breathing steadily, and her golden hair was brushed against his cheek.

 

He flattened his hand on her stomach. Tomorrow they’d find out who was inside of it.

 

“Myrcella,” he said gently. Half-heartedly.

 

He felt her stir and she stretched a little, her body rubbing against his. He wished he wasn’t so attuned to her, even this slight movement affected him.

 

She blinked her eyes open and then started, rising up.

 

“I fell asleep?,” she asked, turning towards him, her hands immediately going to her stomach.

 

“You were exhausted,” he pointed out.

 

She nodded, her eyes scrunching as she yawned.

 

“Did Melanie get eliminated?,” she wondered.

 

He chuckled, “In stunning fashion.”

 

She grinned and stood up, picking up a teacup off of the coffee table. He followed her into the kitchen and she rinsed it out, washing it gently with hand soap.

 

He knew from his mother that you couldn’t put real porcelain in the dishwasher, which is why he hadn’t wanted any of her collection. He didn’t care enough to have anything he had to treat as gently as that, but he watched as Myrcella’s slender fingers massaged the cup.

 

Robb wanted to ask if her mother had a collection of porcelain as well. He didn’t really care about the porcelain of course, he just wanted to know how she knew to treat it so gently, and if there were any parts of their childhoods that had matched.

 

He guessed not.

 

She towel dried the cup and placed it back in the cupboard.

 

“Can I drive you home?,” he asked.

 

She nodded and they called goodbyes and thank yous to Sansa and Theon and walked out with Grey Wind. They took the elevator down in silence and he lead her out onto the street.

 

It was a warm night, but she wrapped the cardigan around her tightly. They got into his car, he helping Grey Wind in, and he drove towards her apartment. It was a quiet night, and he didn’t turn the radio on.

 

“The morning sickness is back,” she said after a few minutes.

 

“I’m sorry,” he grimaced. He knew how hard the first trimester had been on her body. He had been so happy to see her feeling better in the fourth month, and had hoped the fifth and sixth would have been just as good. “You didn’t mention anything…”

 

“Well it’s not exactly like you can come vomit for me,” she pointed out.

 

In spite of that disgusting image, or perhaps because of it, he chuckled. It was also fair. There was very little he could do to quell morning sickness and she probably wanted him around even less.

 

Even still he didn’t like the thought of her in pain on her own. He didn’t like the thought of her in pain at all.

 

“No but I could make you tea,” he suggested, “Or rub your feet.”

 

She giggled, “Careful what you wish for, Stark.”

 

“I’m serious,” he noted.

 

She was silent at that but she turned around and pet Grey Wind, who helpfully leaned his head forward for her. She scratched under his chin and he thoroughly blocked Robb’s rearview mirror.

 

Robb pulled up in front of Myrcella’s building and put the car in park.

 

“Thank you,” she said, “I’ll see you tomorrow…”

 

“ _Dun dun dun…_ ,” he joked at the same time she said, “ _Womp womp_.”

 

Her light laughter filled the car and he took the opportunity to turn and look at her. Already, after only an hour of solid sleep, the light had returned in her eyes. He remembered thinking of her as a flower that had grown in a graveyard, and how true it was. She responded to the faintest bit of nourishment, making it all the clearer how long she’d lived without it.

 

She pointed at him, “Any final bets?”

 

“Just healthy,” he prayed.

 

She smiled and looked down at her stomach, rubbing a small hand over it, “Hear that, little one? Daddy doesn’t care what you are and neither do I.”

 

He’d never heard her call him that in relation to anyone other than Grey Wind. He liked how it sounded on her lips, the way it didn’t sound foreign, as though she said it often. He knew she was reading all the books and articles and talking to the baby. She’d told him it made her feel foolish, narrating to the baby what it was having for dinner, but that she did it all the same and that it was entirely possible it would come out preferring spinach salads to breast milk.

 

He wondered if she talked about him when she was alone.

 

It was with that hope in his mind that he asked, “Myrcella?” She looked up from her bump and raised an arched brow. “I was thinking… you know the doctor’s appointment tomorrow… it’s um… at 4:30 and…”

 

She waved her hand and said, “I totally get if you can’t make it.”

 

“No that’s… that’s not… that _shouldn’t_ be okay, Myrcella,” he sighed. “I was just wondering if you’d… have dinner with me after. To… celebrate.”

 

“Oh,” she said and he turned back to her quickly enough to see her looking down at her stomach. “Okay.”

 

“Okay?,” he asked, positive he’d heard wrong and that she’d start talking about boundaries or whatever else might keep him at arm’s length.

 

“Were you hoping for a different answer?,” she wondered.

 

He suggested, “Some enthusiasm may not be amiss…”

 

She smiled but shook her finger at him, “Don’t push your luck with me, Robb.”

 

He nodded, “Fair enough. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

 

“Tomorrow,” she agreed.

 

She pressed a kiss to Grey Wind’s snout and nodded at the doorman waiting eagerly to open her door.

 

She stepped out of the car and he said, “Unless of course you’d like that foot rub…”

 

“Good NIGHT,” she said forcefully with a roll of her eyes.

 

But he caught a glimpse of her smile just before she turned away.


End file.
